
Constantine Pueblo Jones 



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Constantine Pueblo Jones 

A Farcical Comedy in Three Acts 



By 

EDWIN DANIELS FOWLE 



NOTE 

This play may be performed by amateurs free of royalty and 
•without express permission. The professional stage-rights are, 
however, strictly reserved, and performance by professional 
actors, given in advertised places of amusement and for profit, is 
forbidden. Persons who may wish to produce this play publicly 
and professionally should apply to the author in care of the 
Publishers. 




BOSTON 

WALTER H. BAKER & CO. 

£920 



VA 



4%S 

Constantine Pueblo Jones 



CHARACTERS 



Tom Westhaver. 

Dick Westhaver. 

Harry Westhaver. 

Mr. Jones. 

Dodge, a famous detective. 

Whiskey, his colleague. 

Conny, only a tramp. 

William Hucksley, Jones butler. 

Walter Hucksley, his son. 

Doe, Jones' lawyer. 

Louise, Jones' niece. 

Mary ) 7 x . , 

Helen \^r friends. 

Mrs. Hucksley, propriettess of Sunny Lake hesumr.*nU 

SYNOPSIS 

ACT I. The "restaurant" in the railroad station at Sunny 
Lake, early in the morning. 

Act II. The drawing-room of Mr. Jones' mansion, a few hours 
later. 

Act III. The same as Act II, a few minutes later. 




Copyright, 1920, by Edwin Daniels Fowle 
Professional stage and moving picture rights reserved 

©CLD 5 5288 m 161920 



Constantine Pueblo Jones 



ACT I 

SCENE. — The "restaurant" of the railroad station at 
Sunny Lake. There are windows r. c. and l. c. at 
back. The one at r. c. is used for a show-window. 
Doors up r., up l., and down l. There are five dining 
tables, one down r., one down c, one down l., one up 
L. and one up r. Dining chairs on all sides of tables. 
Menus, sugar bowls, mustard pots, napkins, etc., in c. 
of tables. On the walls are advertising signs, train 
time schedides, a calendar, etc. It is early in the 
morning. 

(As scene opens, the doors up r. and down l. are closed 
and locked. The door up l. is closed. The windows 
are closed and the shades pulled down. A key is 
heard turning in the lock of the door up R. Enter 
Mrs. Hucksley, a rather large, fairly good-natured, 
middle-aged woman, wearing a bonnet and shawl, 
which she begins immediately to remove.) 

Mrs. H. (speaking through the door up R.). Come on 
in, Walter. I may need you. 

Casts her shawl and bonnet on c. table, goes to win- 
dows and raises shades and opens the window at 
L. c, opens the door up l., unlocks and opens the 
door down l. Takes shawl and bonnet and exits up 
L. In the meantime, enter Walter, up r., a boy of 
about eleven, carrying a sling -shot. He takes a shot 
through the door, comes to c. behind table, yawns 
and stretches. ) 

3 



4 CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 

Walter. I don't see why we had to come so early, 
mother. Nobody comes here to breakfast. 

Mrs. H. (off l.). I know — but I've got a lot of cook- 
ing to do, 

(Walter sits in chair r. of table c, and thought fully 
plays with the elastic of his sling-shot. ) 

Walter. Mother ! 

Mrs. H. (off l., after a pause). Yes? 

Walter. When I grow up, can I be a detection? 

Mrs. H. (offh.). A what? 

Walter. A detection — like Shureluck Holmes. 

Mrs. H. (offu). I've told you a hundred times (pause 
while rattle of tins is heard off l.) that you can be any- 
thing you want — except an aviator. 

Walter (determinedly to himself). I'm goin' to be 
a detection. (Conny, a tramp, whose appearance ac- 
cords with his calling, appears at door down l. Looks 
cautiously into room and then cautiously enters. Seats 
himself at back of c. table. Walter does not perceive 
him. Conny suddenly bangs his fist on table. Walter 
jumps to his feet and looks at Conny. Points at 
Conny.) You're a tramp ! 

Conny. Good ! You are a detective. 

Walter (still pointing) . You need a shave ! 

Conny. Excellent ! 

Walter (pointing). You've lost a shoe ! 

Conny. Marvellous ! ! 

Walter. You need a bath ! 

Conny (slamming fist on table again). Stop! You're 
getting personal ! (Walter stares at him open mouthed.) 
Now, look here, you little scamp, I want some breakfast. 
(Walter still stares. Conny again slams table.) I 
said breakfast! (Walter starts.) 

Walter. W-will you p-pay for it? 

Conny. Oh, maybe — if it's a good one. 

Walter (starting to cross up l.). Mother! 

Conny. Oh, you'll have to get it yourself. Mother's 
gone down the track to empty the offal. (Walter stares 
at him again. Conny looks at him.) Say, hurry up! I 



CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 5' 

said you'd have to git it as your mother's gone out to 
empty the offal. 

Walter {dazed). Awful what? 

Con ny. What ignorance ! Awful garbage, of course. 

(A door slams off l. ) 

Walter. .She's back now. 

Conny. Well, I don't care. I want some breakfast ! 

(Slams table repeatedly with both fists.) 

Enter Mrs. Hucksley, up l., holding a pie. 

Mrs. H. A tramp! Here, you — stop banging your 
dirty fists on my clean table-cloth. 
Conny. Give me some breakfast, then. 

(Mrs. H. places pie on table up l.) 

Mrs. H. Give you some breakfast ! Oh, yes. 

(Conny sits on edge of chair and rubs hands all over 
table-cloth. Mrs. H. crosses to c. and yanks the 
chair out from under him. He falls to floor but gets 
up quickly and backs toward door l.) 

Conny. All right. All right. Turn me out, would 
ya ? Ya would, would ya ? Turn me out, would ya ? You 
wait! I'm goin' to hang around this joint and ya may 
see me again ! 

(Makes a sudden dive up stage and procures pie. Then 
walks jauntily down l., bows low, and starts to exit. 
Walter shoots sling-shot at him. A loud whack is 
heard and Conny raises hand to his neck, dropping 
the pie. Turns and starts to pick up pie. Walter 
has reloaded sling-shot and again fires. Conny yells, 
wrings hand, takes a look at Walter who is reload- 
ing shot, and runs. Walter goes to door and looks 
after him. Mrs. H. picks up pie. They both look 
after Conny.) 



6 CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 

Enter William Hucksley, the Jones' butler, up r. He 
is a very serious and pompous man. He carries a 
newspaper. 

Walter (seeing him). 'Lo, Pop. [Exits down l. 

Mrs. H. (turning and raising hands in astonishment). 
William ! (Places pie on table down l. and turns toward 
him. Stops short.) Don't you like your job, or are 
you ? ( Pauses. ) 

William (glaring at her) . Am I what? 

Mrs. H. Er — er — advanced? 

William (adjusting chair at r. of c. table to suit him). 
No. 

Mrs. H. H-have you retired ? 

William (placing newspaper on table and seating him- 
self). No. 

Mrs. H. H-have you given up your job? 

William. No — I haven't given up my position. 

Mrs. H. Th-then you've lost your job — er — posi- 
tion? 

William. " Lost " my position ! I — " lost " my posi- 
tion ! Are you crazy ? Why do you ask so many crazy 
questions ? 

Mrs. H. (relieved). But why are you here so early 
for? 

William. Oh, that's what's troubling you. Chauffeur's 
sick — I had to take his place. Fine job for a butler. 

(Takes up paper and unfolds it preparatory to reading.) 

Mrs. H. What did Mr. Jones want to come to town 
so early for? 

WilliaIm (who wants to read). He didn't. 

Mrs. H. Well, who did? 

William. Louise, his ward. I wish you'd shut up. 

Mrs. H. Oh — Louise? P'raps she'll drop in and see 
me before she goes back. She and me are great friends. 
But why did she want to come so early? 

William (hitting his paper furiously). Because she 
wants to get her friends, Mary and Helen, and take 'em 
home so they can see Mr. Jones' son Constantine when 



CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES J 

he comes home to-day at what time no one knows. 
(Gasps.) There, now are you happy? 

Mrs. H. "J 01168 ' son? " — I didn't know Mr. Jones had 
a son. 

William. If you'd V read the papers for the last 
three weeks you might know somethin'. 

Mrs. H. Do the papers say he has a son ? 

William. Of course they do. What else could my 
perfectly elusive words imply? Your stupidity is posi- 
tively appealin\ 

Mrs. H. (running to him and snatching the paper). 
You let me see that paper. Now where's my spectacles ? 

William. There — see what ya get for bein' so im- 
perlite. If yer'd let me have the paper I'd have read it 
to ya. 

Mrs. H. (returning paper). Read it, then. 

William (looking it over to find place). Hereafter 
follow my example and act like a lady. Here it is on the 
front page with a big heading. (Reads.) "Mr. Jones 
Will Greet Runaway Son " 

Mrs. H. " Runaway son ! " 

William. Yes. (Reads.) "Mr. Jones Will Greet 
Runaway Son To-morrow " — that means to-day. 

Mrs. H. Then why does it say " to-morrow " ? 

William. Because it was written yesterday, y'idiot ! 

Mrs. H. (sitting l. of c. table). All right — go ahead. 

William (reading). "Sunny Lake, June 29. Mr. 
Robert Jones is expecting the return of his son, Con- 
stantine Pueblo Jones, to-morrow — providing Constantine 
is alive. Mr. Jones has heard nothing of his son since he 
ran away about twenty years ago. Lately, he has been 
advertising for him in the newspapers all over the coun- 
try. His advertisement has read as follows : * To my son, 
Constantine Pueblo Jones, dear sir, come home and re- 
ceive the forgiveness of your poor old father, (William 
pauses to wipe his eyes) who still is fond of you in spite 
of your heartless desertion, twenty years ago, (William 
again wipes his eyes) when you ran away with scarcely a 
" farewell." (William closes his eyes and takes a deep 
breath. ) I will gladly receive you with open arms on the 
thirtieth of June. If I like you, you will not be required 



8 CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 

to work and I promise you a weekly allowance of one 
hundred dollars. Your father, Robert Jones/ " That's 
all 

Mrs. H. Oh, ain't that wonderful? Then his son, 
Constantine, will come here to-day and I may see him ! 

William. If / don't like him, I'll give up my position. 

Mrs. H. I don't see how Mr. Jones can be so sure he's 
goin' to like him. For all he knows his son may be a 
thief, a gambler, or a tramp. By the way, there was a 
tramp here this morning ! Do you suppose that he could 
be Jones' son ? 

William {looks at her disgustedly). Idiot! 

{Continues to read his paper.) 

Enter Louise, r., a handsome girl of about twenty. 

Louise. We are ready to go back now, William. 
William {rising). Yes, miss. 

(Louise crosses to c. and William, after throwing 
paper on table down r., exits r. Mrs. H. rises.) 

Louise. Hello, Mrs. Hucksley. How are you? 

Mrs. H. Hello, Louise! {They embrace.) You're 
quite a stranger. When are you coming for some more 
cooking lessons ? 

Louise. I've intended to come for a long time but 
lately I've been helping uncle get ready to welcome his 
son. 

Mrs. H. Can't you stop a minute now, — I'm making 
some mince pies. 

Louise. Well — {casts a hesitating glance toward R. 
door) — I'll look at them a minute. 

Mrs. H. Come on, then. 

(Mrs. H. leads the way to the door tip l. Enter Mary 
and Helen r., much agitated.) 

Helen. Louise! Louise! Come here quick ! There's 
a strange man coming up the street — and acting queer ! 

Mary. / think he's crazy. 

Louise {running tozvard them). Goodness! Where's 
William? 



CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 9 

Mary (almost crying). I sent him down to the drug 
store for a t-tooth-brush. 
Louise. Where 's the crazy man ? 

(They crowd to the door and look down the street. 
Mrs. H. approaches them.) 

Helen (pointing). There he is. 

Mrs. H. But what did you want a tooth-brush for ? — 
to brush him away ? 

Mary. No — to brush his teeth — I mean my teeth. 

Mrs. H. Oh, I see. Your hand was shakin' and you 
thought you could do a good job. 

Helen (rather hurt, to Mrs. H.). We noticed the 
crazy man after we had sent William. 

Louise. Look ! he's coming this way ! 

Helen. Oh dear ! What shall we do ? 

Louise (to Mrs. H.). Can't we hide somewhere? 

Mrs. H. Yes, let's go into the kitchen. 

Louise. Just the place! Let's hurry! He's coming 
fast. (They cross, screaming, up l.) 

Mary. Wait! Do you suppose it's Mr. Jones' son? 

Louise. Of course not! 

(Pushes the others ahead of her. They all exit up l., 
closing door after them. Enter Dodge, a sour faced, 
serious man, with a drooping mustache, tip r. Flings 
himself beside door in a crouching posture and gases 
intently, through doorway. Enter Walter down l., 
whistling. Sees Dodge and stops short. Dodge is 
too busily occupied to notice him. Walter comes 
to back of chair l. of c. table, on tiptoe. Dodge 
rises to his feet and Walter stops. Dodge again 
crouches and crosses backzvard in a crouching posi- 
tion to c. in front of table, always looking toward r. 
door. Walter places one hand on his hip and 
scratches his head with the other. Then he climbs 
on top of table and peers down at Dodge. Dodge 
backs to front of table down l., all the time peering 
under c. table toward r. door. Then turns around 
and gases out l. door. Walter rises to his knees 



10 CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 

on table and again scratches his head, perplexed. 
Then gets down and climbs on table down l. Again 
peers over at Dodge. Dodge moves nearer door. 
Walter climbs down r. of table. Dodge rises and 
begins to back toward him. Walter retreats toward 
c. Dodge turns back to audience and goes up stage 
looking about him. Walter follows him. Dodge 
crosses to r., Walter to c. Dodge comes down stage 
between r. and c. tables. ) 

Dodge {conclusively). I am alone. 
Walter. You're a liar. 

(Dodge starts and looks at Walter, then draws him- 
self up proudly. ) 

Dodge. Sir, I am a detective. 

Walter {incredidoitsly) . You're a detective! 

Dodge. Who told you that ? 

Walter. You did. 

Dodge. / did ? You're a liar ! 

Walter {imitating Dodge). Sir, I am a detective. 

Dodge. You're a detective ! 

Walter. Certainly. Why not ? 

{Comes down l. of c. table.) 

Dodge {looking him over). Are you in disguise? 

Walter. No — of course not. 

Dodge. Where's your badge ? 

Walter. Where's yours? 

Dodge {producing badge). Here's mine. 

Walter. Oh, then you're a real detective ? 

Dodge. Certainly. Did you think I was a paper 
doll — or a movie actor? 

Walter. Hurrah! {Jumps at Dodge and flings his 
arms about his neck.) Who are you after? 

Dodge. Well, I'll tell you,— By the way, what's your 
name? 

Walter {seating himself on c. table). Walter Hucks- 
ley. 

Dodge (r. of table, one foot on seat of chair). Well, 



CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES II 

Walter, I'm on the trail of three men — three very suspi- 
cious men — and three men who care nothing for human 
life. 

Walter. Aw, come oft. That makes nine men. 

Dodge. Three men who would not hesitate to hang 
me on the first telephone pole they came across. 

Walter. Twelve men. 

Dodge. Three men whose mad career of crime no one 
has thus far been able to stop. 

Walter. Fifteen. Say, ain't you got anybody to help 
you? 

Dodge. Yes, I have one colleague but I need your 
help too. Now, tell me — have you seen those three men ? 

Walter. Which three? No, I haven't seen any 
three. 

Dodge. I presume you work here. 

Walter. My mother runs the place. 

Dodge. Is she here now ? 

Walter. She's prob'bly in the kitchen. 

Dodge. Good. Now listen, Walter. I want you to 
go and ask your mother if she's seen the three criminals. 
Don't bother to mention me. Just pretend you want to 
know. Will you do it ? 

Walter, Yes. 

Dodge. Good. Perhaps you'll be a detective some 
day. 

Walter. Honest? Do you think so? Oh, boy! 
(Dodge retires to extreme r. of stage. Walter attempts 
to open door up l. but is unable. His efforts arouse 
muffiled screams from within.) That's funny. It sticks. 

{Retires some distance and then runs at door. Loud 
screams from within.) 

Helen (from other side of door). Quick! Get the 
table ! The lock won't hold much longer ! 

(Walter is petrified with astonishment but soon be- 
gins to beat on the door.) 

Walter (calling). Mamma! Mamma! 

Mrs. H. (from other side of door). Heavens! It's 



12 CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 

Walter. Walter! (Walter stops beating.) Is that 
crazy man out there? 

Walter. Ain't any crazy man out here. 

(Noise of furniture being moved. Mrs. H., followed 
by girls, enters cautiously up l. Dodge ducks be- 
hind table down r.) 

Mrs. H. (embracing Walter). You poor boy, did you 
think your mother didn't love you any more? 

Walter. I thought you'd gone daily. 

Helen. Well, let's get William and drive up to 
Louise's, so we shan't miss seeing all the fake sons when 
they arrive. 

Mrs. H. " Fake sons ! " Why, what do you mean ? 

Helen. Oh, the real son isn't going to be the only 
applicant for that one hundred dollars a week, you may 
believe me ! 

(The girls cross to c, Mary leading.) 

Walter. Wait a minute. Have any of you seen three 
crimes around here? 

Mary, Three what? 

Walter. Three crimes. 

Louise. Do you mean criminals? 

Walter. I guess so. 

Mrs. H. Heavens, no. Why? 

Walter (to girls). Have you? 

Louise. { No 

Helen, j 

Mary. I saw three men cross the field in back of our 
house this morning. And, oh girls — guess whom they 
looked like. 

& } When? 

Mary. The Westhaver boys. 

Louise (joyously). Oh! 

Helen. Really ? 

Mary. Yes, really. 

Mrs. H. Who are the Westhaver boys ? 



CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES I£ 

Louise. They're three awfully nice fellows that we 
met in New York. 

Mrs. H. " New York, New York." That's all I hear 
when you girls are about. 

Helen. Oh, you'd love them if you only knew them. 

Dodge (rising to his feet and approaching them). 
Pardon me, ladies, but I 

Mary. It's the wild man ! 

(Helen screams and all start to run.) 

Walter (at top of his lungs). He ain't wild. He's 
only a detective. (They stop but are still nervous.) 

Mrs. H. "A detective "—that's about as bad. 

Dodge. I am sorry to cause such a commotion — but 
may I ask this young lady (indicating Mary) for a de- 
scription of the three men she saw cross the field? 

Mary. Well — (pause) they seemed fashionably 
dressed. 

Helen (to Louise). Just like the boys would have 
been. 

Mary. And that's about all I can say. 

Dodge. Thank you. I believe I am on their track. 
(To Mrs. H.) Madam, this is the only lunch room 
about here, is it not? 

Mrs. H. It's the only one for ten miles around. 

Dodge. Good. Then they'll be sure to come here for 
breakfast. Mrs. Hucksley, you need a chef, don't you? 

Mrs. H. Need a chef ! 

Dodge. Well, I'm your man. 

Mrs. H. But I 

Dodge. But instead of your paying the chef, the chef 
will pay you. (Hands her some bills.) I think you also 
need a waiter. Now, when my colleague comes, he will 
be delighted to oblige you. (Hands her another bill and 
bows.) I thank you. 

Mary. Oh, have you got a colleague? 

Dodge. Yes, miss. If you had looked where those 
men crossed the field about five minutes afterward, you 
would have seen him close on their track. He's a smart 
fellow and has a bright future before him. We call him 
Whiskey. 



14 CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 

Helen (distaste fully) . Whiskey! Oh! why do you 
call him Whiskey? 

Dodge. Only on account of his whiskers. 

Louise. Well, girls, we must be going. Good-bye, 
Mrs. Hucksley. I'll come 

(Starts to embrace Mrs. H. but is halted by the sound 
of a well-remembered voice.) 

Tom (off r.). Hurrah, fellows! Here's a restaurant. 
Helen. That's Tom Westhaver! 
Dodge. Aha ! 

(Hides behind table down L. The girls up l. c. turn 
toward l., hiding their faces. Mrs. H. stands l. of 
them, peering curiously around them at door R. 
Walter is behind her.) 

Enter Tom, a bright, active, nice appearing young fellow, 
followed by Dick and Harry, who are a little older 
and therefore more balanced. 

Tom (bowing to brothers and showing way to C. table 
with mock gallantry). This way, gentlemen. 

(They sit down at c. table; Tom back; Harry r. ; 
Dick l.) 

Boys (throwing their heads back and opening their 
mouths wide as they speak). B-r-e-a-k-f-a-s-t ! 

Mrs. H. (aside to girls). Mercy! Are those the 
" boys " ? 

(Girls nod emphatically and place fingers on lips.) 

Boys (as before). B-r-e-a-k-f-a-s-t! 

Harry (staring at girls). Great Scott, boys! 

t\ ick \ (looking at Harry). What's the matter? 

Harry (still staring) . This must be Sunny Lake ! 



Tom. 
Dick. 
Tom. Why? 



Dick. } Sunny Lake! 



CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 15 

Harry (pointing). Because 

To*. J Because _ ? 

Harry. Because — there — (Tom and Dick lean over 
table toward him) — are the girls! 

(Tom and Dick jump to their feet and turn toward 
the girls. The girls turn toward them.) 

Louise. Tom ! 

Tom. Louise ! 

Dick. Mary ! 

Mary. Dick ! 

Harry (who has now risen). Helen! 

Helen. Harry ! 

(Louise runs to Tom at c. Helen runs to Harry at 
r. Mary runs to Dick at l. They all shake hands 
cordially. ) 

Louise. Oh, but I'm glad to see you, Tom. 

Harry. Say, you're looking great, Helen. 

Mary. Well, how's New York, Dick? 

Tom. It's a long time since we've seen you girls. 

Helen. You're looking well too, Harry. 

Dick. New York's all right. How's Sunny Lake? 

Louise. We've been waiting for you boys to come 
for a long time. But we never lost hope, since you had 
promised us. Are you on your vacation? 

Tom. Why, er — yes — in a way. But the fact is — er 
— the fact is — we haven't come here especially to see you 
— (Louise is surprised) it's rather an accident — our be- 
ing here. We 

Helen (regretfully). Is that true, Harry? 

Harry. I'm afraid it is. Of course, we're awfully 
glad it happened but — but 

Dick, But we can't stay now. We'll come again 
some day. 

(The girls draw back, looking at the boys somewhat 
hurt. ) 



l6 CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 

Tom. We're awfully sorry but we're — busily engaged 
on — er 

Harry. Yes — we're busily engaged on (Pause.) 

Dick. On busy business. 

Louise (almost haughtily). I thought you were on 
your vacation. 

Tom. And so we are— only 

Harry. Only we aren't, exactly. 

Dick. The fact is, we're on kind of a shopping tour. 

Helen. Shopping! in Sunny Lake! It hasn't even 
got a Woolworth's. 

Tom. No, that's not exactly what we're doing. We're 
trying to settle a strike — a big moonshiner's strike, all 
over the country. 

(The girls are astonished.) 

Harry. He's not quite right. We're really trying to 
find a nice little farm somewhere in the country where 
we can raise — pickles. 

Enter Whiskey, r., a businesslike detective with pro- 
digiously large, sandy whiskers. He stands R., raises 
clenched hand, and then opens it suddenly. 

Whis. Psst ! 

Dodge (raising hand above table and imitating the 
signal). Psst! (The girls see both signals.) 

Walter (pointing excitedly at Whiskey). That's 
Whiskey — I bet a cent. 

Louise (to Mary and Helen). It's the detective. We 
had better go, girls. (To the boys.) I am afraid we can 
quite understand your hurry to depart. 

Helen. I am afraid we can. 

Louise. Please do not remain a -moment on our ac- 
count. Come, Mary, we will go. 

(Helen and Louise start up r. Mary starts to follow 
and then stops.) 

Mary (beginning to cry). But — but you may be mis- 
taken. Dick couldn't do anything wrong. 

Louise (taking her hand and leading her away). If 



CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 1 7 

we are wrong there will be time to apologize later. I am 
afraid we are right. 

(Helen and Louise exit up r., forcing Mary on be- 
tween them, Mary sobbing.) 

Boys (fiercely to Whis.). Who are you? 
Dodge (rising). He's a waiter. 
Boys (turning toward Dodge). Who are you? 
Dodge. I'm the chef. 

(The boys look at Dodge so fiercely that he backs 
nervously into the kitchen. Tom then turns his gaze 
back to Whis. Dick and Harry remain looking 
after Dodge. Whis. is perfectly composed.) 

Tom (at length). Well, let's sit down. 

(The boys sit down as before.) 

Dick. This is a devil of a mess. 

Harry. I should say so. Not only are we going to 
lose our big bet but we've already lost the three best girls 
in the world. 

(Mrs. H. is for some time uncertain what to do with 
herself but finally exits into kitchen. Walter 
crosses to r. and sits on table up r., watching the 
proceedings.) 

Tom. No, fellows, the girls aren't lost. They'll come 
back when they understand things. What we've got to 
worry about now is that bet. 

Harry. We needn't worry any more. We've lost it. 

Dick. At least we've only got about five hours to win 
it in. 

(Whis. has taken a napkin from table down r. and 
now marches around to l. of c. table.) 

Harry. Yes, and how in blazes ? 

Whis. What can we serve you, gentlemen? 
Harry. Nothing! Get out! As I was saying, how 
in blazes ? 



1 8 CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 

Whis. Pardon me! but this is a restaurant — not a 
foundry. 

Harry. Oh, fish) 

Wins, {top of voice). Fish for one! 

Dodge ( off l. ) Fish for one ! 

Harry. Here! I didn't order that! If Fve got to 
have something, I'll have Shredded Wheat. 

Whis. {loudly again). One bale. Cancel the fish. 

Dodge {off l.). One bale. Can't sell the fish. 

(Dick turns and looks Whis. up and down with dis- 
approval. ) 

Whis. What will you have, sir ? 
Dick. I'll have a couple of eggs on toast. 
Whis. {still loudly). Two ver-ry young chickens on 
a raft. 

Dodge {off l.). Two ver-ry young chickens on a raft. 

(Whis. looks at Tom.) 

Tom. I'll just have some coffee and doughnuts. 
Whis. {as before). Coffee and some dough. 
Dodge {off l.). Cough in some dough. 

{The brothers look at each other, disgustedly.) 

Dick. I don't think much of this place. 
Harry. Neither do I. {To Whis.) Waiter, would 
you mind moving a little farther away? 

(Whis. makes grimace but does as he is told.) 

Tom. Well, fellows, something's got to be done in the 
next five hours. 

Harry. Oh, let's forget it. We can never get a sixty 
dollar a week job in this hole. 

Dick. You're probably right, Harry, but I don't be- 
lieve in giving up until we have to. Can't you suggest 
something? 

Harry. No thanks ! Don't forget what happened the 
last time I suggested something. 

Dick. Yes, but that was an absurd thing for us to . 



CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 1$ 

try. Just because Tom looked like the bank cashier was 
no reason for us to try and substitute him. Ha! ha! 
That was funny. 

Tom. It came near not being so blamed funny for me. 

Dick. Say, we sure raised a rumpus in that town. 
Ha! ha! 

Harry. You're having an awfully good time, aren't 
you? I suppose you've forgotten that we nearly got 
pinched ! 

Tom. / wouldn't be surprised to hear that we had a 
couple of detectives on our trail right now. 

(Whis., who has gradually approached the table again, 
covers up an explosion with a cough.) 

Harry (half rising). Say, will you keep away from 
here? 

Whis. Yes, sir. (Moves farther off.) 

Dick. Well then, Tom, can't you suggest something? 

Tom. Why, yes — I have a suggestion. 

Dick. Good ! 

Harry. What is it? 

Tom. Simply this. I've just been thinking. Every- 
thing we've tried so far we've all tried together and It's 
always just one of us that's queered it. Isn't that right ? 
(Boys nod.) First it was I; then Harry; and then you, 
Dick. Well — I think perhaps we ought now — that it's 
so late in the game — to each try it for himself. Surely 
one of us ought to land a job — anyway. 

Harry. In five hours? I guess not. Nobody'll land 
one. 

Tom. At any rate, with three working separately, 
more ground will be covered. 

Dick. I suppose we ought to try everything. 

Harry. But there's one trouble. Doesn't the bet read 
that we've got to get the jobs in the same place? 

Tom. I don't think so. Let's see. ( Takes paper from 
pocketbook.) Listen — I'll read you the whole business. 
(Reads while Dick and Harry look at their own con- 
tracts.) " Stanley Walsh agrees to release Thomas West- 
haver from his next year's contract to act in his, Stanley 



20 CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 

Walsh's, theatrical company if Thomas Westhaver can 
procure a situation for himself which will net him at 
least sixty dollars per week, and shall obtain this situation 
before noon of June 30 of this year. In event of Thomas 
Westhaver' s failing to obtain the above mentioned sit- 
uation in the allotted time, Thomas Westhaver agrees to 
sign a three years' contract with the Stanley Walsh the- 
atrical company. Signed, Stanley Walsh and Thomas 
Westhaver." 

Dick. And ours read just the same. 

(They return their contracts to their pockets.) 

Tom. There's nothing about us all getting a job in the 
same place. 

Dick. No, not a thing. (Whis. exits up l.) 

Harry. Do you know, the more I think over that 
fool bet, the more foolish it seems. 

Dick. Oh, I don't know. We were all heartily sick 
of the stage and were willing to try anything to be re- 
leased from next year's contract. There's some excuse 
for us. 

Harry (sarcastically) . Yes — and now we're in for a 
three years' contract. I tell you, we were three mighty 
conceited young fools to think that we could get a sixty 
dollar a week job in less than two months. 

Enter Whis. up L. with shredded wheat and eggs on 
toast. 

Dick. Oh, I don't know as we were. We thought we 
knew just where to go. 

(Whis. crosses to back of Harry's chair and places 
the shredded wheat on table, remaining between 
Harry and Tom, listening, with head thrust intently 
forward. ) 

Harry. And we went there and got stung. 

Dick. Yes. (Throws his folded napkin into 
Whiskey's face. Whis. comes to life and brings the 
eggs around to Dick, setting them on the table. Listens 
again.) Well, we've worked hard enough since. 

Harry. Yes. (Throws napkin into Whiskey's 



CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 21 

face.) But the trouble is — some of our dealings haven't 
been entirely above board. (Whis. exits up l.) 

Dick. I know. But we intend to fix up everything 
after we win our bet, so a few little transgressions like 
ours won't do any harm. 

Tom (who has been meditating for some time). Well, 
fellows, shall we adopt my suggestion ? 

Enter Whis. with coffee and doughnuts. 

Harry. I'd just as soon, although I think it's too late. 
You ought to have thought of it before. 

Dick. Tom's ideas generally pan out pretty well, so 
let's try it. 

(Whis. is just setting the coffee down on the table.) 

Tom (taking cup). Well, boys, from now on, every 
man for himself. (Raises cup.) And if only one of us 
is lucky, let the best man win. And if only two of us are 
lucky, let the worst man lose — that's I. And if none of 
us are lucky, let's resign ourselves cheerfully to three 
more years of misery. (Drinks. Dick and Harry ap- 
plaud. Whis. has deposited the doughnuts and now 
stands some distance behind Dick. Tom rises.) I can't 
eat anything — I'm too excited. 

Dick (beginning industriously to cut his toast). 
That's funny. 

(Tom moves r. with hands in pockets. Stands behind 
table dozvn r. looking thoughtfully at its surface. 
Dick and Harry begin to eat. Tom picks up news- 
paper and reads the headlines. His eyes finally 
become settled on one place.) 

Tom. Hello! Here's an article about Sunny Lake. 

Harry (between mouthfuls). Read it. It may have 
something about the girls. 

Tom (slowly, as he reads to himself). No — I guess 
not. — It's only about a — a (Continues to read.) 

Harry (pausing). A what? 

Tom. Nothing. It's a mistake. (Still reading.) 

Harry. What's a mistake ? 



22 CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 

Tom (surprised at something he has read and speaking 
in a tone which sounds like an answer to Harry's ques- 
tion). Jingoes! 

Harry (turns suddenly and looks at him). What? 

Tom (looking absent-mindedly at Harry). I don't be- 
lieve the real son will show up. 

Harry (perfectly serious). Don't you? How about 
the moon ? 

(Tom crosses back of table to Whis. at l. and moves 
him a little farther from table.) 

Tom. Waiter, are you a native of this town? 

Whis. Yes, I am. Er — why no, I'm not. On second 
thoughts, though, I am. 

Tom. Good. Then I suppose you know Mr. Jones? 

Whis. (shaking head). No. Mr. Jones? Why, yes, 
of course. 

Tom. Intimately? 

Whis. Yes, certainly; everybody knows Jones — but 
me. 

Tom. Well, then, tell me his hobby. What does he 
like? What kind of people does he like? 

Whis. (looking uneasily at floor and then at ceiling). 
"His hobby?" Er — his hobby — he's very fond of — 
poetry. 

Tom. Really? Oh, thunder! Hasn't he any other 
hobby ? 

Whis. (gaining confidence). No, not one. He's very, 
. very fond of poetry — eats on it, sleeps on it, walks on it, 
writes it himself and entertains poets. Nothing 

Tom (despairingly). But I'm no poet. 

Whis. In that case, my dear sir, you must never ex- 
pect to become a friend of Mr. Jones. 

Tom. Then, by Jingoes, I'm a poet ! 

Whis. Is that so? Have you got a poetic license? 

Tom. Of course. 

Whis. Pooh ! then you're no poet. Anybody can 
write poetry with a poetic license. 

Tom (gaily). Hurrah, fellows! See you both later. 
I'm a poet ! 



CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 23 

(Throws paper on table down r. and exits up r.) 

Harry. Poor fellow, he's gone crazy. I wonder 
where he feels the worst. 

Dick. / wonder what he read in that paper. 

(Rises, gets paper and returns to table and sits again. 
His eyes rest immediately on the article and he be- 
gins to read.) 

Harry. Well, what did he read ? 

Dick. I don't know what he read, but (Finishes 

article. ) 

Harry. But what ? 

(Dick rises and approaches Whis. Harry seizes pa- 
per and begins furiously to look it over.) 

Dick (to Whis.). Say, do you live in this town? 

Whis. Yep. (Takes chair from l. table and places it 
facing Dick. Sits down. Crosses legs.) What do you 
want? 

Dick (placing foot on rung of Whiskey's chair and 
leaning toward him, casting a nervous glance at Harry). 
Do you know Jones ? 

Whis. (nodding). Yes-sir-ee. Great friend of mine 
— Jones. 

Dick. What sort of people is he fond of? Has he 
any hobby ? 

Whis. S'funny thing — but he's very, very fond of — 
er — Frenchmen. Talks with 'em whenever he can and 
always invites 'em to his house — strangers or not. And 
he can't speak a word of the language himself. He 

Dick (disgustedly, removing foot from rung). That's 
what I get for not taking up French when I had the 
chance. Never mind — I'll try it anyway. I don't need 
to talk French. I'll keep my mouth shut. (Crosses up 
R.) So long, Harry. Poolay voo fond-say? 

Harry. Sure. Do you like billiards? 

(Dick exits r. Harry finds the article, begins to read 
it and rises slowly at same time. Whis. watches his 
movements and rises simultaneously.) 



24 CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 

Whis. Don't bother to come to me. I'll come to you. 

{Motions to Harry to sit down. Harry does so ques- 
tioningly. ) 

Harry. I don't know what they saw, but 

Whis. Yes, I live here and I know Jones. He has 
only one hobby and that is — er — to read wild west stories. 
He's very fond of cowboys — always entertaining them. 
Loves firearms. I suppose you're a cowboy? 

Harry. Yes ! 

Whis. I knew it. There's a novelty shop around the 
corner. Perhaps you can get rigged up. 

Harry (rising, rather dazed). Thanks. (Shakes 
Whiskey's hand. Then goes to door up r. and stops. 
Slaps the top of his head.) I'm a cowboy. [Exits. 

Whis. Dodge ! 

Enter Dodge up l. Walter comes down R. Whis. 
lifts Walter to sitting posture on c. table. Whis. 
stands r. of Walter ; Dodge l. 

Dodge. What's the matter? 

(Whis. motions him to be silent.) 

Whis. Now listen, Walter, do you know where Mr. 
Jones lives ? 

Walter. Sure. I have to carry the washing there 
every Tuesday. 

Whis. Good! Now listen. 

(Begins to whisper to Walter. Dodge brings his 
head nearer to hear. Gradually Walter's mouth 
and eyes open wide.) 

Walter. Oh, boy! (Whis. continues to whisper.) 



CURTAIN 



ACT II 

SCENE. — The drawing room of Mr. Jones' mansion. 
Doors r. and down l. French zvindow up l. c. Fire- 
place c. back. Portieres at doors and draperies at 
windozv. Table l. c. Sofa r. c. Desk at r. back. 
Chair in front of it. Chairs both sides of table. Chair 
extreme R. Mantlepiece above fireplace contains, 
among other things, a number of small ornaments which 
may be slipped into a man's pocket. 

Enter Jones, a bright, lively, little, old man with 
eccentric white hair and a very red face. His clothes 
are a trifle old-fashioned but neat and well made. He 
enters at r. At the same time William enters l., 
cautiously; sees Jones and straightens up. 

Jones (r. c, sharply). William! where have you been? 
I missed you. 

William (l. c, embarrassed). Er — Miss Louise 

Jones. Oho ! So Miss Louise hasn't been behaving 
herself, either. Where did she send you? 

William. The chauffeur was sick and I had to drive 
the car. We went to town. 

Jones {shaking cane at William). William, from 
whom are you supposed to take your orders ? 

William. From you and M 

Jones. There's no "and" about it. Whom does 
Louise take her orders from? 

William {shaking head) . / don't know. 

Jones. You old rascal! Of course you do! She 
takes them from me ! 

William. Does she? 

Enter Louise l. 

Louise. And from whom do you take your orders, 
Uncle Jones ? 

25 



26 CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 

(William steps back and Louise confronts Jones.) 

Jones. Uh ! M-my orders ? Ah ! Uh ! My orders ? 
(Louise frowns threateningly.) From you, I guess! 
Ho, ho, ho ! Ha, ha, ha ! (Sits on sofa. Louise stands 
l. of sofa and begins to remove hat. William exits l. 
Jones, recovering.) Tell me, Louise, why did you go to 
town at this time of the morning? 

Louise. Well — (removes hat, places it on table, and 
sits on sofa beside Jones) to-day, you know, you're ex- 
pecting your son, Constantine, (Jones nods) and Helen 
and Mary thought that they'd love to see him. 

Jones. Huh? they did, did they! (Rises.) So you 
brought them along. You might think this was going to 
be a public reception. 

Louise (rising). But you won't object ! 

Jones. Object? I refuse to have them here. Do you 
think that outsiders should see a poor old father shed 
affectionate tears at greeting his long lost son ? 

(Helen and Mary enter l. Mary is still unhappy.) 

Helen. We won't look at you, Mr. Jones. We only 
want to see the son. 

Jones (turning toward her). And how do you think 
the son will like it? 

Helen. Oh, he won't mind. It'll break up his em- 
barrassment. 

Mary. I think we'd better go home. 

Helen (putting her arm around her). Come, Mary 
dear, cheer up again. You promised you would, you 
know. (Mary has handkerchief to her eyes.) 

Jones. What's this? Mary crying? What's the 
matter ? 

Louise (rising). We've all met with a great disap- 
pointment. 

Helen. But we had resolved to forget it immediately 
— and now Mary's gone back on us. 

Mary. If I've gone back on you, I've not gone back 
on Dick. 

Jones. Dick ? Who's Dick ? 



CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 27 

Louise. Dick Westhaver whom she met in New York. 
He's proved to be not what she hoped. 

Jones. That so ! Hmm. Too bad. ( Offers Mary 
chair R. of table.) Sit down here and let's see what we 
can do to amuse you. 

(Helen leads Mary to chair and Mary sits down.) 

Helen (removing hat). Let's have your hat, Mary. 

(Mary removes her hat and hands it to Helen, who 
picks up Louise's also and exits l.) 

Jones. Now let's see what we can do to amuse you. 
Shall we play Hearts ? 

(Mary places hand on heart and groans.) 

Jones. Old Maid? 

Louise (reproachfully). Uncle. 

Reenter Helen l. 

Helen. No. Let's play Tiddle-de-winks. 

Louise. I have it! Let's prepare a grand reception 
for Constantine. 

Helen. Glorious ! We'll give him a royal one. 

Louise (clasping hands). Let's see. What can we 
do? 

Helen. We ought to have a throne! 

Jones (coming forzvard). Just a moment. Don't you 
think I've got anything to say about this ? Do you think 
I'm going to stand for any such nonsense ? 

Louise. Oh, Uncle Jones, be a sport. It'll be a lot of 
fun. Just think — Prince Constantine received in state by 
his Majesty, King Jones. 

Jones. But Constantine! Think of Constantine! 
What will he think about it ? 

Louise. All he'll think about is pleasing you. 

Helen. And getting his one hundred a week. 

Jones (turning on her). What? 

(Helen hides her face in her hands.) 



28 CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 

Mary (sobbing). I wish Dick was Mr. Sons Jones — I 
mean Mr. Jones' son. 

Helen. Quick! She's suffering a relapse. Louise, 
where can we get a throne ? 

Louise. There's a big packing box down cellar. 

Helen. Just the thing! Get it! 

Louise (going up r.). William! William! [Exit R. 

(Jones is considerably disturbed.) 

Helen. We ought to have something to cover the box. 
Can't you cheer up, Mary, and suggest something? 

Mary. Only to go back and find Dick. 

Helen. I know! I'll get that rug up in Louise's 
room. [Exits l. 

(Jones walks discontentedly r. Mary sobs. Jones 
looks at her.) 

Jones (crossing to her). Come, Mary. Don't take it 
so hard. There are just as good fish as ever were caught. 

Mary. Mr. Jones! Please do not refer to Dick in 
that manner. 

Enter Louise r. 

Louise (speaking through doorzvay). Bring it in here, 
William. (Considerable noise is heard and WilliAJvi 
enters with packing box. He has a hard time managing 
it but finally deposits it bottom up, c. He then retires r. 
Enter Helen with rug l. ) Splendid ! Put it on the box. 
(Helen begins to cover the box with rug.) William! 
{Pointing to chair r.) Bring that chair and put it on 
here. 

Jones (stepping on throne just as rug is laid). I'm 
sorry, but this nonsense has gone far enough. (William 
places chair on throne behind Jones.) I shan't stand for 
it. (Sits down.) 

Helen (pleadingly) . Oh, Mr. Jones. 

Louise (resignedly). Very well, Uncle, if you insist. 
Take the box back, William. 

Helen (indicating Jones). Mary, look! His royal 
highness, King Jones. 



CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 20, 

(Mary looks at Jones, her face lights up, and she 
bursts into a fit of laughter. Louise steps on throne.) 

Louise. See ? You've got Mary laughing ! 

Jones (looking at Mary, somewhat surprised). I see 
I have. 

Mary (rising). He ought to have a crown. 

Helen (to Louise). I have it ! Your old hat ! 

Louise (getting down from throne). Yes. 

Mary. I'll get it. } [Exits l. 

Jones (beginning to enjoy the fun). So I'm a king, 
ami? Ah! 

Reenter Mary with hat, which looks as though it might 
have been worn by the king of Abyssinia. She runs 
to Jones and places it on his head. 

Louise. Long live King Jones ! 
Helen. Long live King Jones ! 
Mary. Long live King Jones ! 
Louise. Shout, William. 

William (r., shouting). I hope Mr. Jones lives 
through this. 

(Door-bell rings off l. Jones and the girls stop their 
fun making and listen. William crosses to l. and 
exits. ) 

Jones (descending from throne). Who do you sup- 
pose that is? 

Louise. Don't get off your throne. It may be the 
prince. 

Reenter Wiliiam. 

William. Mr. Constantine Pueblo Jones desires an 
audience with his father. 

Jones (running about, terribly excited). It's Constan- 
tine ! Stop this nonsense. Take that box away. 

(Throws hat off and starts to pidl chair from throne. 
Mary whispers to William, who nods unwillingly. 
Helen and Louise force Jones into throne chair. 



30 CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 

Mary picks up the crown, jumps on back of throne 
and places it on his head again. Girls are laughing. ) 

Louise. Admit Prince Constantine, William. (Wil- 
liam exits. Jones struggles.) Your majesty! 
Helen. Receive him royally. 

Reenter William. 

William. His royal highness, Prince Constantine 
Pueblo Jones. 

{The girls release Jones. Enter Tom l., wearing a wig 
with long black hair, his face very white, and a book 
under his arm. He pauses l.) 

Jones {rising). My son. 
Tom {to audience). A nut. 
Helen. Behold. 
Louise. 'Tis the prince. 
Mary. Tis he. 

Tom. Ye gods! The girls! {Runs off l.) 
Louise. Bring him back! (William exits l.) 
Jones {calling after William). By persuasion, of 
course. 

(Tom reenters with considerable momentum followed 
by William.) 

William {to Jones). What did you say, sir? 
Jones {descending from throne.) Nothing of impor- 
tance now. My son! 

(Tom runs to him, and falls on one knee, seizing his 
hand. ) 

Tom. My father! {Kisses his hand.) 

Jones. Why — why did you run away? 

Tom. I was unhappy. 

Jones. Unhappy? Why? 

Tom. Because I wanted an automobile, the state-house 
dome in Boston, and the Woolworth building in New 
York. You wouldn't let me have them. 

Jones. But you were only three years old. 



CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 3 1 

(Tom catches himself by the throat.) 

Tom. Yes, but father, I desired to see the world. 
Jones. So young? 

Tom. Alas, I have always been young. I am young 
now. In fact, I begin to think I was born young. 

(Helen is now l., Mary c. and Louise r. Their 
opinion of Tom is not at all complimentary. Jones 
looks around for Louise and locates her.) 

Jones. Arise, my son, and meet Louise, my niece — 
your cousin. 

(Tom approaches Louise but turns away his face and 
hides it with his left hand while he holds forth his 
right unsteadily.) 

Tom. H-how do ? 

(Louise is rather slow in taking the hand and lets it 
go very quickly.) 

Jones. Meet Louise's friends, Mary and Helen. (Tom 
shakes hands with them as though their hands were red 
hot, and turns around toward Jones.) Come, sit down, 
my son. You must be tired after wandering about for 
twenty years. (Leads him to sofa. Both sit down, Jones 
on Tom's r.) Tell us where you have been and what 
you have seen. 

(Louise brings desk chair r. of sofa and sits down 
facing sofa. Helen and Mary each bring a chair 
from table and sit down l. of sofa, Mary behind 
Helen. All this greatly annoys Tom. William 
exits l.) 

Tom. Well, immediately I had run out of sight of the 
house on the eventful day — most twenty years ago — I de- 
cided to strike for New York. But I made a slight mis- 
calculation and struck Greenland — off Baffin Bay. Leav- 
ing Greenland as soon as possible, I was blown upon Ice- 
land; slipping on Iceland, I struck the Scandinavian 
peninsula on North Cape, near Hammerf est 



32 CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 

Louise. May I inquire how much time you spent 
during these journeys? 

Tom. Oh, a day or so — perhaps a week — possibly a 
year — or it may have been ten years — I don't remember 
exactly. 

Louise. Thank you. 

Jones. Well, go on. 

Tom. From Norway I went to Nova Zembla. Then 
traversing the Arctic Ocean in a rowboat I landed at 
the island of New Siberia. But the shock of my landing 
was so great that I was thrown completely over the island 
and was forced to swim to Siberia proper — some forty 
miles away. Being still very young, as usual 

Jones. How young? 

Tom. Oh, four or five. 

Helen. More or less. 

Jones {takes a deep breath). Well, go on. 

Tom. From Siberia I jumped to Alaska. 

Louise (mockingly). No! Really? 

Tom. Figuratively speaking, of course. From Alaska, 
I traveled to New York. 

Louise. On foot, I suppose. 

Helen. Barefoot, perhaps. 

Tom. No, no, you're wrong! Pullman! You see, 
during my wanderings, I had composed my first poem, 
and it made such a sensation that the Alaskans gladly 
paid my carfare. 

Louise. A polite way of saying, " Here's your hat — 
don't hurry." 

Helen. It must have been quite a poem. Let's hear 
it now. 

Mary. Yes! Do recite it. What's the title? 

Tom (nervously) . Er — do you really want to hear it? 
Er — it's very crude. You — you — remember it was the 
very first one I wrote. I — I hardly remember it. It 
really wouldn't be worth your while to hear it. 

Louise. Oh, go ahead. We'll remember that you were 
only four or five when you wrote it. 

Mary. Please do. What's the title ? 
_ Tom. Well, if uncle — I mean father — no ! yes, that's 
right — father — doesn't object. (Jones, who has been 



CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 33 

watching him sullenly for some time, grunts.) Do you 
object, father? 

Jones (turns more toward front, slumps down, folds 
hands, and twirls thumbs a couple of times). I guess I 
can stand it. 

Helen (after adjusting chair to suit her). Well, go 
ahead, what's the title? 

Tom. The title? Let me see. Oh, yes— "The Tale 
of the Dying Fish." 

Mary (disappointed). Oh-h-h! 

Tom (after an effort of memory). 

" On the low hills to westward 
The Consul fixed his eye, 
And saw the swarthy storm of dust 
Rise fast along the sky. 

But the Consul's brow was sad 

And the Consul's speech was low, 
And darkly looked he at the wall, 

And darkly at the foe : 
' Their van will be upon us 

Before the bridge goes down; 
And if they once may win the bridge, 

What hope to save the town ? ' 

Then out spake brave Horatius, 

The Captain of the gate: 
' To every man upon this earth 

Death cometh soon or late. 
And how can man die better 

Than facing fearful odds 
For the temples of his fathers 

And the ashes of his gods ? * " 

(Rises and bows majestically.) 

Louise. Is it original ? 

Tom. It's original with the fellow who wrote it. 

Helen (with rapture). Oh! How wonderful! 

(Tom turns toward her and bows again.) 



34 CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 

Mary (who is perfectly disgusted). It was nothing 
but a nursery rhyme ! / could write a nursery rhyme. 

Louise. Yes, Mary, but remember he was in the 
nursery when he wrote it. 

Tom (falling on one knee beside Jones). And what 
does my dear, dear father say ? 

(Jones, who has not altered his position or his sullen 
expression, looks at him a moment and then turns 
away.) 

Jones. Haddock ! 

Tom. Haddock? 

Jones. Tripe! 

Tom. Tripe? (Looks at the girls inquiringly.) 

Louise. That means he doesn't care for it. 

Tom (apparently broken-hearted). Oh! 

(Sits dejectedly on sofa again.) 

Mary. I hate to say so, but I don't think he's much 
of a poet. 

Tom. Thank you for breaking it so gently. 

(Jones rises and walks thoughtfully by Louise and 
around to rear of sofa.) 

Helen. I think he's the sensation of the age. 
Jones. It's an awful sensation. 

(Walks thoughtfully to fireplace.) 

Louise. I should like to hear him make up some 
poetry. 

Helen. That would be fun. 

Mary. It would show how much of a poet he really is. 

Tom (his hand to his throat). My hash is cooked. 

Louise. What do you want to make one up about ? 

Tom. Oh! I think I could make up a good one 
about— about suicide. 

Mary. Oh, no! We'd better choose the subject, or 
he'll try to pass off one of his old ones on us. 

Helen. Yes, Mary's right. He might do that. Not, 
Mr. Jones, that we distrust you at all. 



CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 35 

Tom. I see you don't. 
Louise. What shall it be? 

Mary {suddenly). His sensations when greeted by 
his father! (Jones shows disgust.) 
Helen. That's good enough. 

(Tom buries his face in his hands.) 

Mary. If we don't like the way it starts, we can 
change it. 

Louise (after slight pause). Come, come, Mr. Poet — 
we are waiting. 

Tom (raises head). But d-don't blame me if it doesn't 
run very smoothly. Even Longfellow got stuck once in 
a while, you know. 

Helen. But there's no comparison between you and 
Longfellow. 

(ToiM bows.) 

Louise. On your mark! (Tom straightens himself.) 
Set ! (Tom eases his collar. ) Go ! 

(Tom clears his throat.) 

Tom. 

As — as I entered yonder door 
With — with misgivings at my heart, 
I — I — I'd have fallen to the floor, 
If — if my feet had — spread apart. 

Helen (applauding). Wonderful! 

(Tom, who has surprised himself, swells with pride 
and knocks a bit of dust off his sleeve. ) 

Mary. It rhymes and that's about all. 

Louise. But it has a meter. 

Helen. Certainly it has. 

Mary. A meter! What for? 

Jones. It's a hot air meter. (Dances a few steps.) 

Helen. But don't interrupt him. 

Tom. And when my father I saw, 

I thought to myself with a sigh, 
" If this is what is my — my " 



36 CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 

Helen (who follows the words intently). Paw. 
Tom. " Paw," 

I will be quite proud to — to 

Louise. Die. 

Tom. " Die." No ! no, that's not right. 
Mary. Never mind. It'll do. Go on. 
Tom. But when I saw with whom he was, 

My heart began to — to 

Helen. Flutter. 

Tom. " Flutter " — of course. 

I was so startled by the — the 

Louise. Buzz. 
Tom. " Buzz." 

I ran like — like — melting butter. 
Helen. You're doing wonderfully well. 

(Jones comes to back of sofa.) 

Tom. And when back I came again, 

I noticed 

Jones. Unfortunately there's one way in which you 
don't resemble Longfellow. 
Tom. What's that? 
Jones. Longfellow's dead. 

(Jones starts toward fireplace again. Door-bell rings. 
Jones stops. All listen.) 

Dick (off l.). Zee papa! Zee papa! Queek! To 
maze arms ! 

Mary (rising) . That voice ! 

Enter William suddenly, closing door behind him. 

Jones. What is it, William? 
William. I don't know. 

(Dick begins to beat upon the door. William braces 

himself against it.) 

Dick (off l. ) . Mong pair ! Mong pair ! Let meez in. 
Eet is my son — no ! your son. 
Jones (loudly). My son? 



CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 37 

(Tom makes for door r. but Louise has risen and 
throws herself in front of it. ) 

Dick (still beating on door). Wee! Wee! Eet eez 
Constantine ! Eet eez Constantine Pueblo ! 

Louise. Constantine! Open the door, William. 

Dick (off l.). Wee! Open ze door! (William 
opens the door. Dick, wearing a mustache, an imperial, 
and a hat such as D'Artagnan might have worn, rushes 
in and embraces William.) Mong pair! Eet eez I. At 
last eet eez I! (Kisses William.) 

William (struggling). Hold on! 

Dick (continuing to embrace him). Don't you know 
me, pair ? Don't you know me ? Eet eez I ! Eet eez I ! 

William (shouting). Somebody eat 'is eye and get 
it over with. (Releases himself from Dick's embrace.) 

Helen. Are they twins? 

Jones (approaching Dick). You say you are Con- 
stantine Jones ? 

Dick. Wee ! Eet eez I ! Eet eez I ! 

(Flings his arms around William's neck. William 
seises his wrists and transfers Dick's embrace to 
Jones. Tom hides behind throne.) 

Jones. But it is impossible. There is my son. 
(Points behind him to Helen.) 

Dick. No, no. Zat eez your daughtair. / eez your 
son! 

Jones. But you're Italian. 

Dick (relinquishing Jones from embrace). Italienn? 
No. (Proudly.) Franshay! 

Jones. But my son was an American. 

Dick. Ah. Jus' so ! But I grow up in Paree. 

Tom. By George, it's Dick ! 

Jones (to Dick). One of you is lying ! 

Dick. One of me ! Ha ! you see doubell. 

(Tom comes boldly to c. Mary goes to front of sofa.) 
Tom. That man's a liar. 



38 CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 

Dick. What make you tink so? 

Tom. Because this is my father and I am his son. 

Dick. That voice ! 

Tom. What's the matter with it? 

Dick (recognising him). So! it's you, is it? 

(Tom falls on one knee beside Jones, seises his hand 
and kisses it.) 

Tom. Father, do you doubt me ? 
Dick (falling on knee, the other side of Jones). 
Fathair, surely you will not turn me out? 

(He leans in front of Jones and looks up at him.) 

Tom (placing his hand against Dick's face, pushing 
him back, and taking his position). Father, I have been 
your son all my life. 

Dick (pushing Tom back). Oh fathair, if you knew 
how much I need zat one hundred dollar a week. 

Tom (pushing Dick back). Father, as your son, I 
insist that you recognize me. 

Dick (pushing Tom back). Fathair, I insist zat you 
throw zat man into ze jail. 

Tom (pushing Dick back). Get out! 

Dick (pushing Tom back). Get out yourself! 

Jones (separating them). Just a minute! William, 
send for Jack Doe, my lawyer. 

William. Yes, sir. [Exit l. 

Dick ) 

T f (rising and watching William exit). Lawyer! 

Jones. Yes, a lawyer. And in the meantime, I guess 
we'd better keep you in separate rooms. You might 
hurt each other's feelings. 

Helen (to Mary and Louise). They do seem rather 
violent. 

(Dick and Tom look at each other. Jones crosses to 
r. door.) 

Jones (at door r.). If you gentlemen will accom- 
pany me? 



CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 39 

(Tom and Dick start to cross but stop simultaneously; 
start again and again stop; then exit. Jones fol- 
lows. ) 

Louise (seating herself on sofa). Well, what do you 
think? 

Mary (sitting beside Louise). I think it's funny. 

(Helen also sits upon sofa.) 

Louise. But don't you think you recognize them? 

Mary. Who ? Constantines ? 

Helen. If there were three of them, I'd have my 
suspicions. 

Mary. What are you girls driving at ? 

Louise. Great Scott, Mary ! Didn't you notice any- 
thing familiar about that would-be Frenchman? 

Mary (thoughtfully). Why, I did think his voice 
sounded a little familiar. 

Louise. Good ! Whose did it sound like ? 

Mary. Like Dick Westhaver's. (Louise looks at 
Helen. Both smile triumphantly. Mary looks at 
them.) Oh! I thought probably you'd laugh. 

Louise. No, Mary. We think it is Dick. 

Mary. But Dick couldn't grow a mustache in an hour 
and a half. 

Helen. He bought that one. And what did you think 
of the poet? 

Mary. That must have been Tom. Then where's 
Harry ? 

Louise. He hasn't shown up yet, but doubtless he will, 
shortly. 

Mary. But what are they doing all this for ? 

Louise. I can't believe they are really trying to hood- 
wink uncle. 

Helen. Want to know what I think ? I think they're 
just trying to play a practical joke on us. 

Mary. I think it's rather hard on Mr. Jones. 

Enter William l., starts to cross to R. door. Door-bell 
rings. 



40 CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 

Louise. There's the door-bell, William. 
(William turns and exits l.) 

Helen. They always were full of fun. But what 
shall we do ? Tell them we know them ? 

Louise. No. Let's pretend to be deceived and see 
what they're going to do. It'll be fun. 

Helen. And when they think they've " got us going " 
we'll have the laugh on them. What do you say, Mary? 

Mary (nodding). All right. 

Reenter William. 

William. Pardon me, Miss Louise, but the men from 
the laundry are here and want to know if they may come 
in and take down the portieres now. 

Louise (pointing to portieres at r. door). These? 

William. Yes, miss. 

Louise. Very well. 

(William exits l.) 

Helen. How long has Mrs. Hucksley had men work- 
ing for her ? 

Louise. I don't know — but we'd better go somewhere 
else. Come up in my room. 

(The girls exit r. Enter Whiskey and Dodge carry- 
ing Walter covered over with a sheet in a clothes- 
basket. William enters. The detectives set the 
basket on floor l.) 

William. That belongs in the kitchen. 
Whis. Yes, sir. 

(They pick basket up and cross with it to C. Here 
they again deposit it on the floor.) 

William. I said, "Kitchen!" (Points to R. door.) 

Whis. Yes, sir. (They pick up basket and cross to 

R., where they pause and look at William, zvho still 

watches them.) Yes, sir. (They exit R. William exits 

l. Whis. and Dodge reenter with basket which they 



CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 4 1 

deposit on floor at c. Whis. points to door r.) Those 
must be the portieres. 

(Takes chair at r. of sofa, places it near door, and 
climbs upon it.) 

Dodge. But I say, Whiskey, this'll only take us half a 
minute and we may have to stay here all day. 

Whis. (descending and coming to Dodge). I know. 
But what are we going to do? 

Dodge. At least one of us ought to stay here. 

(Whis. remains thoughtful for a moment.) 

Whis. You might take the butler's place. 

Dodge. I suppose you think the family wouldn't rec- 
ognize me. 

Whis. They might, but the girls we saw at the sta- 
tion are here and they know we're all right. They'd ex- 
plain if anything happened. 

Dodge. How do you think you're going to persuade 
that bone-head of a butler? 

Whis. We'll use persuasive means. I'll get down on 
all fours behind him and you push him over my back. 
Then we'll both land on him. 

Dodge. Sounds good. 

(Whis. climbs on chair again.) 

Whis. We'll wait till he comes in here again. 

(Whis. pretends to busy himself with portieres. 
Dodge sits on chair l. of sofa. Enter William l. ) 

William. You are intelligent. I said to take that to 
the kitchen. (Crosses and places hands on back of 
Dodge's chair.) Get up, will you — I want to move this 
chair. 

(Dodge rises and William takes chair to l. Whis. 
has descended and now crawls along at William's 
l. side. William stops suddenly and looks at him. 
Whis. appears to be adjusting an imperfection in 
the rug. William continues. Whis. also con- 



42 CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 

tinues. William stops. Whis. discovers another 
imperfection. William proceeds around front of 
table. Whis. bumps his head on table leg and stops. 
William places chair at l. of table and starts back 
for other. Whis. accompanies him as before. 
William stops. Whis. examines rug. Dodge ap- 
proaches quickly but William turns toward him 
suddenly and he dances back again. William pro- 
ceeds but his head turns like a balance zvheel out of 
order as he tries to watch both Whis., who continues 
to accompany him, and Dodge, who dances about In 
front of him trying to find an opportunity to push 
him over. William secures the other chair and 
hurries back with it to R. of table. Whis. accom- 
panies him on one side and Dodge on the other but 
they do not find an opportunity for accomplishing 
their object. William places chair and turns toward 
Dodge, his hands on his hips. ) 

William. What are you up to? 
Dodge. Up to the chest. 

(Hits William on chest. William falls backward 
over Whis. and both detectives endeavor to seise 
him but he overpowers them and holds them down 
on their backs with his hands on their throats.) 

Whis. Walter! Help! 

(Walter, still covered by the sheet, rises slowly from 
the basket. William sees him; is astounded; re- 
leases Dodge and Whis. and rises. The detectives 
begin to rise cautiously. William closes his eyes 
and falls stiffly over backwards. Dodge catches him. 
Walter throws off sheet. Dodge drags the uncon- 
scious William off l. by the collar.) 

Walter. Say! That's my pop! What are you dom* 
to him? 

Whis. He's all right. Dodge is going to change 
places with him — that's all. Detectives have to make 
these little sacrifices, you know. 



CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 43 

Walter. What are yer goin' to do with me? 

Whis. {looking around). Hmm! We'll have to hide 
you somewhere. {Goes to throne and contemplates it for 
a moment. Takes off chair and turns box on its side.) 
Here's a swell place. You won't be able to see much 
but you can hear everything. 

Walter {stepping out of basket). It don't look over 
comfortayble. 

Whis. I guess you can stand it. (Walter crouches 
near box and Whis. turns it over on him. Then he re- 
places chair on top.) Now remember — listen to every- 
thing that's said — especially when those three crooks are 
around. Can you hear me distinctly ? 

Walter {in box). Yes. Extinctly. 

Whis. Good ! Then I will leave you for the present. 

Walter. Aren't you goin' to take down the draperies ? 

Whis. The deuce with those. 

(Whis. exits l. Enter Jones r. Crosses to window 
and stands looking out. Enter Louise r.) 

Louise. Has Mr. Doe come yet, uncle ? 
Jones. No. 

Enter Helen and Mary r. 

Helen. Have any more sons shown up, Mr. Jones? 
Jones. No, thank Heaven. If any do, I'll have 'em 
thrown out. 

Enter Dodge l., followed by William. They have 
changed clothes. 

William. I'm goin' down and tell Mrs. Hucksley 
about this. 

Dodge. Tell the whole family. I don't care. 

William. She'll be here in no time. 

Dodge. Good ! I'd like to meet her. Is she anything 
like you ? 

William. You wait! [Exits l. 

Helen. It's the detective ! 

Dodge {finger on lips) . Ssh ! Let me stay! 



44 CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 

Jones (coming down l.). Hullo! What's this? A 
new butler ? 

Louise. Yes, pro temp, uncle. William has sprained 
his ankle. 

Dodge (engagingly). Yes. That's it ! Quite so ! 

Jones (going back to window). Can't say I think much 
of the substitute. 

Dodge (under his breath to Louise). Thanks. 
(Door-bell rings. Enter Tom and Dick r.) Is that the 
bell? 

Dick. Deed eet sound like ze whistle ? 

(Louise nods and Dodge exits l.) 

Jones (to boys who have reached c). I thought I 
told you to stay in the rooms I assigned to you. 

Tom. Dear father, when you see what just came up 
your front steps, you will not blame us for rushing to 
your protection. 

Reenter Dodge. 

Dodge. Constantine Pueblo Jones desires to speak 
with his father. 
Jones. Tell him to go away ! Don't let him in ! 
Helen (in "stage" whisper to Dodge). Let him in. 
Jones. Don't let him in ! [Exit Dodge l. 

Louise. Uncle, to your throne ! It is the prince ! 

(The girls force Jones onto his throne. He frees 
himself and comes down l. c. Tom and Dick go 
down r.) 

Harry (off l.). Get out a* my way, you eastern fox 
trotter ! 

Dodge (off l.). The boss says you can't come in. 

Harry (off l.). Can't, hey? Get out of my way or 
I'll fill you so full of lead you'll be worth a nickel a 
pound ! 

(Dodge enters l. with considerable velocity, landing 
on back in doorway. Harry, dressed in cowboy 



CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 45 

costume, with revolver, lasso, etc., enters over Dodge. 
Pauses l. and grins good-naturedly.) 

Louise (aside). It's Harry 

(Harry goes to Jones and slaps him on the back 
nearly knocking him over.) 

Harry. So this is paw. 'Lo, paw. 

Jones (timidly). How d'do. 

Tom (advancing toward Harry). Look here, you 
big brute, what do you mean by treating my father that 
way? 

Dick (also approaching). Wee. He say what I say 
only he say eet. 

Harry ( to Tom ) . And who might you be ? 

Tom. I am Constantine Pueblo Jones. 

Harry. Indeed! (To Dick.) Who are you? 

Dick. Constantine Pueblo Jones. 

Harry (scrutinizing them intently). So it's you, is it? 
(Draws himself up.) Well ! 

(The girls approach behind Jones.) 

Mary. Who do you think you are, you big bluff ? 

Harry. Huh ? 

(Puts his hand to his mouth as he recognises the girls.) 

Helen. Yes, you cheap actor, you wouldn't hurt a 
kitten. 

Harry (in a terrible voice). I wouldn't, hey? I'll 
show you. (Draws revolver and begins to load it with 
cartridges from his belt. ) I didn't become the champion 
shot of Ohio by graft, I can tell you that! I haven't 
been shooting caterpillars off the California orange trees 
ten years for nothing, I can tell you that ! I haven't got 
the reputation of being able to shave a man's beard 
through sarcasm, I can tell you that ! (He now has his 
revolver loaded. The others have already recoiled a con- 
siderable distance. He now speaks slowly but force- 
fully.) Stand aside, please, so I can practice a little on 
that packing box. (Tom, Dick, and Louise go quickly 



46 CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 

down r. Helen, Mary and Jones move up L.) Here 
goes! (Harry takes aim at throne. As he does so, the 
throne begins to move rapidly around rear of stage toward 
l. door. All but Harry are astonished.) See? Even 
the furniture is scared of me. Stop, furniture, I won't 
shoot. {The throne stops and Harry seats himself in 
its chair.) Now, if you people 'ull all come around front 
where I can see ya, I'll talk to ya. (Helen, Mary and 
Jones, who are behind throne, decline to move. Harry 
rises.) I'm awaitin' ya! {They come down r. nerv- 
ously. Harry sits down and crosses his legs. ) The rest 
of ya better come nearer. {The others approach.) Now, 
Mr. Jones, who's ya son? 

Jones. I don't know ; but when my lawyer comes 

Harry. So ! Ya got a lawyer comin', have ya ? 

Jones. Yes. 

Harry. Say, " Yes, sir," when you're speakin' to me. 

Jones. Yes — sir. 

Harry. Now, when the lawyer comes send him to 
me — {shouting) d'ya hear? 

Jones. Yes — sir. 

Harry. I want it understood now, howsbmever, that 
I'm your son and that I'm goin' to be your son no matter 
what happens. Is it understood? 

Jones. Yes — sir. 

Harry {savagely). D'ya all understand it? 

All {with enthusiasm). Yes, sir! 

Harry. Now ya can all go except these two Con- 
stantines, and when the lawyer comes ya all want to come 
back. D'ya understand? 

All. Yes, sir. 

Harry {with a wave of his hand). Go. 

[The girls and Jones exit. 

Dick {angrily to Harry). Look here, Harry, do you 
think you're going to get away with this thing? 

Harry {coolly). Looks like it. {Gets off throne.) 

Tom. We're in a nice pickle, now, with trie three of us 
trying this stunt. 

Harry {taking chair off throne). We may as well 
keep it up till twelve o 'clock. There's nothing else to do. 
It's our only chance. 



CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 47 

Dick. Well, two of us ought to get out and let one 
fellow have it. 

Tom. I'm agreeable — provided that you're the two 
who get out. 

Harry. That's it. None of us want to get out. (Tips 
over box.) Hello. Look what we've got here. 

(Walter stands up.) 

Dick. It's the boy who was in the lunch room. 

Harry. What were you doing under there ? 

Walter. Nothin'. I was sleepin'. Gee ! You nearly 
shot a hole through me. 

Harry. I may yet ! 

Walter. Better not, 'cause mother'd be mad if she 
had to darn up my clothes. 

Harry. What's your name? 

Walter. Walter. 

Harry. Well, Walter, you stay over here for a while. 
(Places him near l. wall, then goes to Dick and Tom, 
places hands on their shoulders and takes them down c) 
Now listen, fellows 

(Walter escapes through l. door.) 

Tom. There goes Walter! 

(Dick goes to door.) 

Harry. Let him go. He's all right, I guess. 

Dick. Well, I don't know. I think there are some 
detectives on our trail. Somebody followed me here — 
I'm sure. 

Harry. Our wicked career is almost over anyhow. 
We'll be starting for New York this afternoon. 

Tom. I have an uncanny feeling something is going 
to happen before then. 

Harry. At any rate, I intend to do my best to get this 
one hundred dollars a week allowance. 

IhCK. \ S ° d ° L 

(Conny appears at windozv endeavoring to look into 
room. ) 



48 CONST ANTINE PUEBLO JONES 

Tom (pointing at window). Look! 
Dick. I bet it's a detective ! 

(Harry ducks behind overturned throne and Dick and 
Tom join him. Conny opens window, enters cau- 
tiously, closes it, cautiously crosses to r. Looks out 
door, looks toward l. door, listens, goes to mantel- 
piece and begins to put small ornaments into pockets. 
He works rapidly. Tom goes quietly to his r., Dick 
to his l., and Harry behind him. ) 

Tom (slapping Conny on the back). Good morning! 

(Conny stops.) 

Conny. Good morning. 

(Begins putting ornaments back on mantelpiece.) 

Dick. Pardon us for interrupting you. 
Conny (still returning ornaments). Oh, that's all 
right, don't mention it. 

(Finishes and turns, looks at boys, and moves slowly 
down stage.) 

Harry (coming down). Is that your regular business? 

Conny. What? That? (Pointing toward mantel- 
piece.) No. That's just a little side line. I'm really a 
gentleman of the road. I travel — on foot. 

Tom (aside to Dick). Does he look like a genuine 
tramp to you, Dick ? 

Dick. Yes, I think so. 

Harry. Are you staying here for long? 

Conny. No. I intend to reach the next town by 
night. I thought maybe I'd stop here for lunch. Would 
ya give me a bite? 

Harry. Sorry, but we don't live here. 

Tom (to Dick). I'm going to question him. (Comes 
down on Conny's r.) I say, old fellow, who are you? 

Conny. Ya want to know my name ? 

Tom. Yes. 

Conny. Huh! It's an odd name. I've almost for- 



CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 49 

gotten it. (Pronounces it slowly in rather a loud voice.) 
Constantine Pueblo 

(Harry claps his hand over Conny's mouth, while 
Tom and Dick fall upon him, bearing him to the 
floor. ) 

Dick. What'll we do — kill him or drown him? 



CURTAIN 



ACT III 

SCENE. — Same as Act II. The clothes basket is gone 
and the throne is at c. again. The chair, formerly at l. 
of table, is now behind table. 

(Dodge is concealed behind portieres at door r. Enter 
Tom, Dick, and Harry through window.) 

To/m. I don't see how the deuce Conny got away from 
us. 

Harry. I see how he got away from us all right ; but 
I don't see where he can be now. 

Dick. Tom let him get away. 

Tom. He ran right by you, however. 

Dick. I tell you again that I bet he's three miles away 
from here by this time. 

Harry. And I tell you that if he had left the grounds, 
we'd have seen him on the road. He couldn't have swam 
the lake. Believe me! if he should find out that he's 
worth a hundred dollars a week, he'd stick around here. 

Dick {coming down stage). We may as well give it 
up. Let's sit down. {Sits back of table.) 

Tom {sitting on corner of packing box). I feel kind 
of guilty about going on with this thing now that the real 
son has shown up. 

Harry {sitting r. of table). He may not be the real 
son. 

Tom. It's all very well to deceive ourselves, but we 
know all the time that he is. 

Harry. Now that I've started, I'm going to keep it up. 
If this Conny is the real son, he'll be able to prove it, and 
we will make an honorable retreat, that's all. 

Dick. The fact that Mary's here is enough to make 
me stick. 

Tom. I was getting along fine until you fellows 
showed up. 

50 



CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 5 1 

Harry (looking at him). What are you posing as — a 



musician 



Tom. No. A poet. 

Dick. A poet! I hope they ask you to recite some 
poetry. 

Tom. They have. 

Dick. What did you give them? 

Tom. Oh, some stuff I learned at college. 

Harry. Horrors ! Did you get mobbed ? 

Tom. No. They liked it. 

Dick. I heard that Mr. Jones was fond of French- 
men. That's why I'm in this make-up. 

Tom. I hope they ask you to talk French. 

Harry. Do you know, I begin to think my idea about 
making this bet was quite original. 

Tom. It was aboriginal. 

Harry. No, but really ! We've had a lot of fun. 

Dick. An awful lot. And we're going to have a lot 
more with that three-year contract. 

Harry. You fellows haven't any sense of humor. 

Tom. Not a bit. By the way ! How much time have 
we got? 

(All look at their watches.) 

Dick. Ye gods ! It's getting late. 
(All rise.) 

Harry. Let's separate and — since we're all going to 
stick — each man for himself. 

Tom. Good idea ! Gentlemen, I wish you luck ! 

[Exits r. 

Harry (going to window). Don't do anything I 
wouldn't do, Dick. 

Dick. Don't take any wooden nickels, Harry. 

(Harry exits through window. Dick exits l. Dodge 
comes from behind portiere.) 

Dodge. I couldn't make much out of that conversa- 
tion. They're a bad crowd, though, I can see that (Goes 
to window. Enter Jones r. Dodge approaches him.) 



52 CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 

Pardon me, Mr. Jones, I want to speak to you. I'm not 
really a butler. 

Jones. No ? 

Dodge. I'm a detective. 

Jones. Sit down. 

(Offers him chair and sits on sofa.) 

Dodge (c.). I have a colleague and we're tracking 
down those three sons of yours. 

Jones. They're not all sons of mine, thank heaven. 

Dodge. But one of 'em may be. 

Jones. Yes, that's true. Pickerel! 

Dodge. I sympathize with you if that is the case. 

Jones. I need sympathy. Salt water salmon! 

Dodge. However, let's hope for the best. 

Jones. What are you chasing them for? 

Dodge. They've been causing trouble ever since they 
left New York. Every town they've been in they've had 
to leave on the run. 

Jones. Don't say. 

Dodge. Yes, sir! We despise their crimes, admire 
their zeal, and marvel at their persistency. 

Jones. What are they — lunatics? 

Dodge. Sometimes we almost believe so, but they've 
always been sane enough to clear out at the right moment. 

Jones. But why do you speak to me about this ? 

Dodge. Out of kindness to you, Mr. Jones. We fear 
they are plotting some great crime. We fear for your 
safety. They are powerful and very, very bad! 

Jones (uneasily). I wish you'd speak a little — a little 
more cheerfully. 

Dodge. Alas, the occasion is too serious. These 
men — no matter what they are plotting — to gain their 
ends, would ignite a powder plant, undermine a railroad 
bridge, or even sink a navy! 

Jones. I always said a navy was a bad place to be in. 

Dodge. Consider then, Mr. Jones, what they may do 
here! They would think nothing of cutting you up, 
stuffing you bit by bit into a tobacco tin, and throwing 
you into a stone crusher! 



CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 53 

Jones {shuddering) . I wouldn't think much of that 
either ! 

Dodge. In short, Mr. Jones, your life isn't worth a 
cigar butt. 

Jones. I have one favor to ask. 

Dodge. Granted. What is it? 

Jones. Don't tell my insurance company. 

Dodge. Certainly not. And now, Mr. Jones, I and 
my colleague desire to throw ourselves at your feet and 
beg permission to protect you from these criminals. 

Jones. I'm much obliged, I'm sure. 

Dodge. In order to do so, we must be at liberty to go 
wherever we please and do whatever we want — to use 
your house as though it were our own. 

Jones. Hmm! About these criminals — you don't 
have the habit of judging other people by yourself, do 
you? 

Dodge. Not at all. 

Jones. In that case, I give you permission to protect 
me. 

Dodge. Thank you. {Door-bell rings.) The door. 
{Exits l. Jones rises and slowly moves c. Enter 
Dodge.) Your lawyer, Mr. Jones. 

Enter Doe, a rather stout man with a rather expression- 
less face. He carries a hand-bag. 

Doe {holding out his hand). Good morning, Mr. 
Jones. 

Jones {shaking hands). Morning, Doe. Are you 
ready for business ? 

Doe. Always ready for business, Mr. Jones 

Jones. Got quite a case for you this morning. 

Doe. So I hear. William says two sons have shown 
up. 

Jones. There's three of them now. 

Doe. Don't say. Well, the more the merrier. By 
the way, who's this new butler of yours? 

Jones {in low voice). He's a detective. 

Doe. I thought so. {Turns toward Dodge.) Your 
name's " Dodge," isn't it ? 



54 CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 

Dodge {approaching). Right you are — and I live up 
to my name. 

(They shake hands.) 

Doe. I thought I recognized you. Are you working 
on this case? 

Dodge. Yes. I have another fellow helping me. 

Doe. Bring him here. Perhaps amongst the four of 
us we may be able to do something. (Dodge goes to 
window and signals by placing his thumbs in his ears and 
wiggling his fingers. Doe sits behind table and takes 
papers and pencil from bag.) Well, what's the name 
given by the first applicant to your parental affection ? 

Jones. Constantine Pueblo Jones. 

(Doe writes. Jones sits R. of table.) 

Doe. What's the name of the second? 
Jones. Constantine Pueblo Jones. 

(Doe writes.) 

Doe. Third? 

Jones. Constantine Pueblo Jones. 

(Doe looks at him and then writes.) 

Doe. Now, what should be the name of the rightful 
son? 

Jones. Constantine Pueblo Jones. 

Doe. What are you doing — kidding me ? 

Jones. Not at all. 

(Doe writes.) 

Doe. Glad they all have the same name. It'll prevent 
complications. 

Enter Whis. through window; he follows Dodge to c. 

Dodge. Let me introduce my colleague — Whiskey. 
Doe. Whiskey ! 

(Whis. bows.) 

Whis. I'm a little out of date, I know. 



CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES' 55 

(Jones and Doe rise and bow. ) 

Doe. Never mind. With a name like that you'll al- 
ways be welcome. {Moves to c.) Now, in the matter 
at hand, I think it safe to presume that at least one of the 
three is the real son. This brings the question down to 
simply this: Which is the son? When we have dis- 
covered that we will proceed to jail the other two. Am 
I clear? 

Jones. Perfectly. But how are you going to tell 
which is the real son ? 

Doe. Ah ! Now you have asked a question which we 
can't answer, Mr. Jones. That was very foolish of you. 

Jones. Why foolish? 

Doe. Because now we're stuck — now we're at a stand- 
still. 

Jones. But I 

Doe. Oh, we forgive you, Mr. Jones. But it's too 
bad. We were getting along so nicely, too — yes, it's too 
bad. (Doe, Dodge, and Whis. shake their heads sadly.) 
Now we'll have to start on an entirely new track. In- 
stead of determining which one is the son, we shall deter- 
mine which two are not. 

Jones. But I don't see how you can do that any better. 

Doe. Mr. Jones ! This is really too bad. Now you've 
stuck us again. 

(Doe, Dodge, and Whis. look at Jones fiercely.) 

Jones. I'm very sorry. (Sits meekly r. of table.) 

Dodge. He reminds me of a sheet of fly-paper. 

Doe (to detectives). Well, gentlemen, can you sug- 
gest any way out of our dilemma ? 

Whis. It's a pretty serious dilemon. 

Dodge. Dill lemon! It's a dill pickle! 

Whis. I tell you what we might do. 

Doe. What? 

Whis. We might get those three girls to determine 
the right one. 

Dodge. Why leave it to the girls ? 

Whis. Girls are clever, you know. 



56 CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 

Dodge. That's a matter of opinion. I knew a girl 
once who was stupid. 

Whis. What's the matter? Did she refuse you? 

Dodge. Yes — and married another man. 

Whis. She wasn't stupid. She had sense. 

Dodge (his voice beginning to rise). But now he's a 
bankrupt. 

Whis. (shouting) . She didn't know he was going to 
be a bankrupt, did she ? 

Dodge. She might have guessed it. (Shouting.) 

Doe (intervening) . Pardon me, gentlemen, but I think 
Whiskey's idea is a good one. Let's let the girls try it. 
What do you say to that, Mr. Jones? 

Jones (meekly). I'm sorry, but I don't think much 
of it. 

Dodge. Oh, you spoil everything! 

Doe. Nevertheless, I think we'll overrule your veto, 
Mr. Jones. Will you have the kindness to speak to the 
girls about it? 

Jones (rising). I suppose so. 

Doe. And in the meantime, I'll go out on the lawn and 
take a nap. (Jones exits R.) Another thing, boys — I 
think it would be well not to let any one leave the house 
until this thing is settled. See you later. 

[Exits through window. 

(Dodge sits on table Enter Harry r.) 

Whis. Well, Dodge, I'll guess we'll soon have those 
fellows. 

(Harry comes in c, unnoticed.) 

Dodge. At any rate, Whiskey, they'll have to hand 
it to us — we're still on the track. 

Harry (twirling revolver). Look out for the engine. 
(Dodge and Whis. look at him and start for l. door.) 
Don't go. I want to ask you something. Has that law- 
yer come yet ? 

Dodge. N-no, he hasn't. 

Harry (looking at watch). Let me know when he 
comes. [Exits R. 



CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 57 

Whis. (comes to c). There's something about that 
fellow I don't like. 

Dodge (coming to c). Same here. It's his gun. 

Enter Walter, l. 

Walter. Hello, fellers. 

Dodge. Hello. Where did we leave you? I thought 
we left you in that box. 

Walter. Bill Hart found me. 

Whis. Bill Hart! Oh, yes. That's a good place 
though. You'd better get back in there. 

Walter. All right, sir, I will. Is anybody looking? 

(Whis. goes to door r. Dodge to door l.) 

Whis. It's all right. Go ahead. 

(Walter takes chair off box. As he does so, the box 
moves rapidly toward front of stage, stops, and 
turns over. Conny stands up.) 

Dodge. Look who's here. 

(Whis. and Dodge approach.) 

Walter. It's the tramp! 

Conny. Now, I admit I don't know how or why, but 
I want you fellers to understand that I'm worth one 
hundred dollars a week. I heard Bill Hart say so. 

Whis. A hundred a week? Fifty-two hundred a 
year? You look as though you were. 

Conny. I just found out. If I'd 'a' known it before, I 
wouldn't be in this rig — believe me, Xantipsy ! 

Dodge. Well, what are you going to do, now that you 
know? 

Conny. I'm going to find out about it. And in the 
meantime, if any one here would care to loan me — say, 
twenty dollars, I'd guarantee 'em one hundred per cent 
on it when I pay 'em back, making a total of forty dollars 
and a clear gain of twenty. 

Whis. But the question is — when would you pay it 
back? 

Conny. Just as soon as I had it. 



58 CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 

Dodge. Well, we don't believe in investments mucK 
around here. 

Mrs. H. (off l.). Come along, William! We'll find 
him! (Enter Mrs. H., l., followed closely by William. 
She carries a traveling bag. They march across stage.) 
William, do you see the man who took your place? 

(They march back to l.) 

William (pointing to Dodge). Yes, that's the feller, 
right there. He's got my clothes on now. 
Mrs. H. Very good ! 

(Goes to back of table and sets bag upon it. William 
goes to l. of her. ) 

Dodge. Am I afraid of her? I am. 

Whis. Something tells me you'd better leave. 

(Mrs. H. begins to take various implements of war — 
plates, knives, rolling pin, etc., out of bag and place 
them upon table.) 

Mrs. H. The gentleman with the handsome whiskers 
had better get out of the way. The tramp can stay. I 
don't like tramps. 

Dodge. Tell me. Is she setting the table? 

Whis. Not by a long shot. She's preparing for war ! 

Con ny. Pardon me, ma'am, — but you certainly don't 
intend to — to throw those things. 

Mrs. H. (still busy). I certainly do. 

Con ny. Now listen — listen to reason, ma'am. You 
don't want to hold anything against me just because I'm 
a tramp. I'll tell you somepin' ! I'm goin' to be a mil- 
lionaire pretty soon. Bill Hart said so. 

(Mrs. H. pauses to look at him.) 

Mrs. H. Bill Hart? (Resumes work.) I hate Bill 
Hart ! 

Whis. Well, gentlemen, I don't like to leave you — but 
I think I will take her advice and retire. Don't worry 
about anything. I'll see to the burial arrangements my- 
self. (Goes up stage.) 



CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 59 

Dodge. Ma'am, ma'am, I appeal to your sense of right 
and wrong. Do you think you are justified in this — this 
assassination ? 

Mrs. H. I am convinced. I am inspired. 

Conny. I wish she was spired. 

Dodge. Ma'am, ma'am, I appeal to your sense of — of 
decency! Do you think it's nice to litter up a man's 
drawing room with blood and broken china? 

Mrs. H. (still busy). Under the present circum- 
stances, I do. 

Dodge. Ma'am, ma'am, I appeal to your sense of — of 
law and order ! Do you ? 

Mrs. H. I don't care a snap for law and order. 

Dodge. But your sense of beauty, ma'am! Do you 
think it looks well to see a woman throwing china? Do 
you think Michael Angelo or any other sculptor would 
have cared to depict such an act ? Do you — do you ? 

(Mrs. H. has emptied the bag which she nozv places 
on the floor.) 

Mrs. H. (arranging weapons on table). I guess I can 
do it gracefully. (She picks up a plate and raises it above 
her shoulder prepared to throw it.) I don't know which 
one this will hit 

Conny. Don't ! Don't ! 

Dodge. Stop her! Somebody stop her! Somebody 
grab the plate ! 

(William, who is standing behind her, seizes the plate, 
and drops, sobbing, into chair back of table.) 

William. I can't see it done ! I can't see it done ! 

(Dodge, Conny and Whis. approach Mrs. H.) 

Dodge. Look here, ma'am. You're mad because I 
took your husband's place, ain't you ? 

Mrs. H. Yes, I am ! 

Dodge. Well, I'm sorry and I'm ready to give him the 
job back. Will that settle things ? 

Mrs. H. You'll give it back? 

Dodge. Yes. 



60 CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 

Mrs. H. Certainly that settles it. 

Enter Doe through window. 
Doe (to c. ) . What's all the excitement in here ? 
( Mrs. H. is repacking her bag. ) 

Whis. This lady is in the pottery business. She was 
just about to demonstrate how to fire china. 

Doe. Does she happen to know anything about our 
three friends? 

Whis. She ought to. They came to her restaurant 
for breakfast. 

Mrs. H. Yes, and they didn't pay for it. 

Walter. They didn't eat much of it, though. 

Doe (to Mrs. H.). Would you mind staying here a 
while, ma'am; we may need you. 

Mrs. H. Providing I can stay in the kitchen. I don't 
feel at home in these saloons. 

Whis. Certainly. Right this way, ma'am. 

(Goes to door r. Mrs. H. exits R. with bag. Whis. 
follows. ) 

Dodge. Come, old fellow — we'll change clothes again. 

(Puts his arm around William and they exit at r. 
Doe exits through window.) 

Conny. How can I solve this mystery of the one hun- 
dred dollars a week? I guess I'll have to let it solve 
itself. You don't happen to know anything about it, 
do you? 

Walter. Don't know anything about it, and don't 
believe anything about it either. 

(Conny takes rug from box and prepares a couch on 
floor L.) 

Conny. Well, I'm goin' to stay here until I find out 
about it. 

Walter. What are you goin' to do — snooze ? 

Conny (lying down and arranging rug). Sure, 
haven't had any sleep since last night. 



CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 6l 

Walter. I hope you enjoy yourself. 

[Exits through window. 
Conny (singing). "Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys 
are marching." 

Enter Mary and Dick, r. Conny covers himself com- 
pletely with rug. As he does so he says: " One of 
my persecutors." 

Mary. Tell me, Constantine, are you or are you not 
Mr. Jones' son? 

Dick. My comman' of zee Eenglish language ees so 
small, I moos ansaire you in Fransay. Zee an an donk 
goo kongk wee wee wee nix ! 

Mary (sitting on sofa). I wish you would teach me 
the French language. 

Dick (bringing chair from r. of table to C. and sitting 
in it). Eet would delights me, provided you would teach 
me ze Eengleesh language. 

Mary. Which do you like better — America or France ? 

Dick. Oh ! ze America. Zer ees so many attractions 
'ere — like mam'sel for eenstance. 

Mary. Is monsieur in love? 

Dick. Ah, deeply, mam'sel. Despereetly. And 
mam'sel ees also een love ? 

Mary. No. 

Dick (jumping up and forgetting his French). No? 
Do you mean that — do you ? 

Mary (heaving a sigh). Alas, yes. I once loved but 
he turned out to be not what I hoped and since then I 
have found out that I didn't care — very much. 

(Dick sits down hard.) 

Dick. What's the matter, anyway? What's the un- 
lucky fellow done? 

Mary. When I last saw him he had some detectives 
following him. Any man who has detectives on his trail 
ought to be shunned. 

Dick. Why, that's nothing. I've even had detectives 
on my trail. 

Mary. You and he resemble each other a lot. I guess 



62 CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 

all criminals look alike. By the way, it seems to me you 
talk English pretty well. 

Dick. Mong voo tay elasteek, mazee doogane ! 

Mary. No, really? That sounds about as much like 
French as Germany's declaration of war. 

Dick. Can you do any better? 

Mary. Could if I was a Frenchman. 

Enter Louise through window, followed by Tom. 

Louise {coming down stage). Certainly not! Cer- 
tainly not! 

Mary. Hello, Louise. What's the trouble? 

(Louise sits on sofa beside Mary.) 

Louise. Fancy, Mary! Constantine wants to know 
if I'd like to have him make poetry for me all my life ! 

Mary. Heavens ! Does he think you could stand it ? 

Tom. My poetry's all right. You're talking about 
something you don't know anything about. 

Mary. Yes, that's right. Nobody could make head 
or tail out of your poetry. 

Enter Helen l., followed by Harry. 

Helen (coming down stage). Positively, absolutely 
no! 

(Helen crosses to r. of sofa. Harry remains at L.) 

Mary. What's the trouble with you, Helen? 

Helen. The idea ! Constantine wants me to go out 
west with him and hunt buffaloes. 

Louise. Buffaloes! I thought all the buffaloes were 
dead — except those in the zoos. 

Helen. He's a funny cowboy, anyway. I don't think 
he's quite right in his head. 

Harry. I notice nobody has considered it necessary 
to lock me up. (Sits in chair back of table.) I've gen- 
erally been considered pretty sound. 

Tom. If you're pretty sound the rest of the world 
must be an unharmonious discord. There's no resem- 
blance. 



CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 63 

Dick. I suppose you call that poetical. 

Tom. It was musical, too. 

Harry. Yes, music in " b " flat — " b " standing for 
bad. 

Helen. They quarrel dreadfully, don't they ? 

Louise. You might almost believe they were brothers. 

Mary. Just think — at least two of them are impostors 
and will have to go to jail, perhaps. 

Louise. Which do you suppose is the honest one? 

Helen. I wouldn't trust any one of them with a 
plated butter-spreader. 

(Conny snores.) 

Harry. What was that? 

Tom. Sounded uncommonly like a buzz saw. 

Harry (seeing rug and rising). What's under here? 

(Goes to rug and takes hold of it. Conny snores.) 

Dick. Look out ! It may be a beehive. 

(Harry pulls rug off Conny.) 

Tom (approaching). It's that confounded tramp. 
What'll we do with him? 

Dick. Let's dump him in the lake ! 

Harry. No. But I tell you what we can do. We 
can take him out on the road and leave him there. When 
he wakes up, he may move on to the next town. 

Tom. That's a good idea. 

Dick (taking Conny's heels). Come on, then. 

(Harry takes Conny under the arms and they start for 
the window. Just as they arrive, William, in his 
own clothes again, appears at window with revolver 
and stops them. ) 

William. I've been told not to let any one out. 

(Dick and Harry make a rush with Conny for door 
l. Here they are met by Dodge with a revolver. ) 

Dodge. It's too bad, but I'm here. 



64 CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 

Dick. It's a trap. 

Harry. And we're trapped. 

Enter Doe through window. Comes down c. rubbing 
his hands. 

Doe (to girls). Well, have we discovered the real 

son? 

Girls. Yes, we have. 

Doe. Great ! Which is he ? 

Louise. The one on the left. 

Helen. The one on the right. 

Mary. The one in the middle. 

Doe (in disgust). Where's the bone-head who just 
said, " Girls were clever " ? (Dick and Harry lay Conny, 
who is still asleep, by wall l.) I guess we'll have to 
settle this thing ourself. (To girls.) If you ladies will 

permit these gentlemen to occupy that sofa (Girls 

rise and go tip c.) Thank you. (To boys.) Now if you 
gentlemen will occupy that sofa? (Tom, Dick, and 
Harry cross to sofa and sit.) Thank you. (Doe sits r. 
of table, facing them.) Now we'll see if you're all 
here. (Takes out paper he has written formerly. Reads.) 
Constantine Pueblo Jones. 

(Boys rise.) 

Boys. Present. 

Doe (counting them). One, two, three. Yes. Sit 
down. (Boys sit down.) Now, which of you is the 
right son? (All three stand up.) Sit down. (They 
obey.) Number one, what's your reason for coming 
home and claiming your rights? 

Harry. I want that hundred a week. 

Doe. Number two, what's your reason? 

Dick. Same reason. 

Doe. Number three, what's yours? 

Tom. Same reason. 

Doe. Which one of you loves Mr. Jones? (Pause.) 
Which one of you loves Mr. Jones? (Pause.) Are you 
deaf? (Boys shake their heads.) Number three, where 
do you come from? 



CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 65 

Tom. China. 

Doe. Number two, where do you come from? 

Dick. Malay Peninsula. 

Doe. Number one ? 

Harry. Borneo. 

Doe. Number three, what's your business? 

Tom. I'm a poem. 

Doe. Number two, what's yours? 

Dick. Me-e? Zee beezness? 

Doe. Yes. Haven't you got any ? 

Dick. Egscuse me. I no talk ver' fast. (Eases 
his collar.) I eez so hungry. 

Doe. Better go into some food business. You can 
eat everything and make a profit besides. 

Dick. As a matter o' fac' — I eez in ze cracker busi- 
ness. 

Doe. That's a safe business. 

Dick. Wee. Eet eez a safe cracker. 

Doe. Safe-cracker, eh ? I might have known it. 

Dick. No, no ! you mistake ! 

Doe. Number one, what's yours ? 

Harry. I'm a bull-puncher. 

Doe (to Helen). Tell the crockery lady to come 
here. 

(Helen exits r.) 

Conny (raising himself a little). Tell her to leave her 
crockery out there. 

(Conny drops back. Enter Mrs. Hucksley, Helen, 
Whis., Walter and Jones. Mrs. H. comes to c. 
Jones comes to back of sofa.) 

Doe. Mrs. Hucksley, do you know these gentlemen ? 

Mrs. H. Heavens, no ! 

Doe. Look closely, ma'am. Are you sure ? 

(Mrs. H. looks closely at boys.) 

Mrs. H. Why, they do look something like the three 
criminals who came to my restaurant for breakfast. 
Harry. Restaurant ! Bah ! Bird feeder ! 



66 CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 

Doe (jumping up). Great Scott! These aren't the 
three fellows who've been kicking up a rumpus in every 
town between here and New York, are they? 

Whis. That's just who they are. 

Doe (triumphantly, folding his arms). Well! Well!! 
Well!!! (At each ''weir' the boys slump down.) I 
guess we won't spend much time figuring out which is 
the right son. (Puts thumbs in arm holes of vest.) 
Furthermore I guess we've got you fellows just about 
where we want you. However, I believe in being fair — 
so before I have you arrested I'll give you one more 
chance — in case one of you happens to be Mr. Jones' son. 
You must know among yourselves which is the right one, 
so I'll let you settle it. In the meantime the rest of us 
will saunter down to the road and back. And when we 
get back, it's either who's the son or jail for the three of 
you! Am I clear? (Boys nod.) Whiskey, you and 
Dodge stay here. Come on, everybody. 

(Exits jauntily l., followed by Mrs. H., Jones, Wil- 
liam, and the girls. The boys do not move but sit 
staring ahead of them. Whis. crosses to R., sits on 
table, takes newspaper from his pocket, and begins 
to read. Dodge comes down and looks over his 
shoulder. ) 

Dodge. Hello! what's this? (Takes paper from 
Whis. and begins to read intently.) So! This is where 
this "Jones' son " and "hundred dollars a week" stuff 
comes from. I didn't know anything about this. 

(The detectives both read article. Pause.) 

Harry (sitting up). Well, what do you make of it? 

Dick (after a pause, sitting up). It's our finish. He's 
going to have us arrested for usurping the son's rights. 
Wake up, Tom. 

Tom (sitting up). I wish I was dead. 

(Slumps down again.) 
Dick. So do I. ^*> 



CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 67 

(Slumps down. Harry slumps down.) 

Tom. What time is it ? 

Harry (looking at watch). Quarter of twelve. 

(They remain as before.) 

Dodge. That's pretty nice. I wish I was the son. 
Whis. I'd pity Jones if you were. 
Dick. Fellows, we may as well not all go to jail. 
Let's unite and admit one of us to be the son. 
Harry. Which one? 

Dick. Well, 

Tom. Well? 
Harry. Well. 

(Remain as before. The others are heard approach- 
ing. They enter through the window, headed by 
Doe.) 

Doe (a). Come, now, who's the son? 
Harry (rising). I cannot tell a lie. It is he. 

(Points to Dick.) 

Dick (rising and heaving a sigh). Unfortunately, I 
am not. Here is the real son. (Points to Tom.) 

Tom (rising). My friends, I cannot accept this sacri- 
fice. There is the real son. (Points to Harry.) 

Doe. Say, now listen! If Mr. Jones' son is present, 
will he kindlv step out here so we can see him ! 

(Points to floor at c) 

Dodge (taking position designated) . I am here! 

Jones (l. a). Are you my son? 

Dodge. It is I ! I am he ! 

Whis. Father! He lies! / am Constantine! 

Jones. You are Constantine? 

Conny (sitting up). Who calls Constantine? 

Doe. Who's that? 

(Conny stands up.) 



68 CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 

Tom. That, Mr. Jones, is your real son, 
Jones. Is it true? 

HaTry. J Yes, sir, it is true. 

Harry. We will no longer keep him from his lawful 
rights. He is your son. 

Doe (to Conny). Come here. (Conny comes to c.) 
What is your name? 

Conny. It's rather a queer name— all except the last. 
I admit the last name is very common. 

Jones. What is it ? 

Conny. My name is Constantine Pueblo Smith. 

Jones. Smith! Heavens! he's not my son. 

Doe. Then, who the deuce is? 

Jones. I think this has gone far enough. I may as 
well tell you that I haven't any son. 

All. Haven't any son? 

Jones. No, the whole thing's a joke. I always had a 
lot of faith in human nature and I made a bet with a 
friend of mine that if I advertised for a son nobody'd 
show up. As you see I've lost my bet. The world's so 
full of crooks that you can't draw a straight line between 
two points. 

Whis. (a). May I ask who it was you bet with? 

Jones. Perhaps you know him. He's a big theatre 
manager in New York. His name's Stanley Walsh. 

Boys. Stanley Walsh ! 

Tom. He's the fellow we made our bet with ! 

Whis. Yes. It isn't quite twelve yet, but I don't 
mind telling you that I'm Stanley Walsh. 

(Pulls off his whiskers.) 

Dick. Walsh himself ! 

Jones. Why, hello, old fellow. I guess you win that 
bet. (They shake hands.) However, I'm a good loser. 

Whis. You'll forgive my friends here. They're the 
Westhaver boys from New York. (The boys take off 
their disguises.) They wouldn't have tried this thing if 
they hadn't been desperate. You see, they'd bet me that 
they could get a sixty dollar a week position before noon 



CONSTANTINE PUEBLO JONES 69 

to-day. They've lost and now they've got to sign a three 
year contract with me. 

Jones. Oh, I say ! That's hard luck. 

Whis. I can't help that. I need 'em bad. 

Jones. You say it's not twelve yet? (To boys.) 
Look here, boys — I'll give you sixty dollar a week jobs 
right now. (Goes to them and speaks aside to them.) 
But only for one week. You stay around here and look 
after the girls. 

Harry. Mr. Jones ! 

Tom. Hurrah! 

(The boys crowd around him and shake his hands.) 

Dick. That's great ! 

(Door-bell rings. William exits l. The boys find 
their respective girls. Animated conversation en- 
sues. Each couple finds the place too crowded and 
exits.) 

Jones. Walsh, I guess I paid you back, you old rogue. 
Whis. I always was unlucky. 

Dodge (to Conny). You and I are a couple of goats. 
Let's go soak our heads. 
Doe. I'm with you. 
Mrs. H. So am I. 

(All, except Jones and Whis., exit through window. 
Enter William l. ) 

William. Gentleman to see you, Mr. Jones. 

Jones. Who is he? 

William. Says his name is Constantine Pueblo Jones. 

Jones. Strangle him. 

William. Yes, sir. [Exits l. 



CURTAIN 



LINE BUSY 
A Comedy in Two Acts 
By Gladys Ruth Bridgham 
Five male, nineteen female characters, mostly very young people. 
Scene, an easy interior ; costumes, modern. Plays an hour and a half. 
Written for high school performance and admirably suited for this pur- 
pose. Lorraine Fenwick is conducting a school for girls under the terms 
of an uncle's will to demonstrate her right to a big legacy left her under 
conditions. Well, just as some burglars are looting a near-by house, some 
of her girls, seeing the place open, enter and get mixed up in the trouble. 
A "jay" detective thoroughly mixes up the beans thus spilled, and an 
exciting maze of circumstances follows that is full of surprises and fun. 
A capital piece, well recommended. 

Price, 27 cents 

CHARACTERS 



Janice Reece, an instructor. 

Snowball, the maid. 

Jeremiah Stokes, the constable. 

Lorraine Fenwick. 

Mrs. Olive Gleason-Hamilton 

Marion 

Ada 

Flossie 

Stella j- the juniors. 

Agnes 

Phyllis 

Marie 



Magnolia, her daughter. 
Roscoe Linden. 
Parker Hamilton. 
Jack Huntley. 
Richard Fenwick. 
Trixie Tree, an actress. 
Jean Morris 
Anita Shirley 
Helen Burns . the 
Muriel Collins seniors. 
Frances Rose 
Gladys Symons 



SWIMMIN' POOLS 

A Romance in One Act 
For Male Characters Only 
By Belford Forrest 
Five male characters. Scenery, a dark stage ; unimportant. Costumes, 
modern. Plays twenty minutes. " The Kid " of a trio of hobos en- 
counters the turning point in his life in the person of 1 young woman and 
parts with his mates in a scene of great dramatic interest. A high class 
play for male characters uniting much humor with genuine sentiment. 
Strongly recommended. 

Price, 27 cents 



THE HAPPY DAY 

A Farce in One Act 

By Octavia Roberts 

Seven female characters. Scene, an interior ; costumes, wxlern. Plays 

half an hour. Sybil Marlowe, a bride, worried to death by the burden of 

preparation for a fashionable wedding and on the eve of a quarrel with 

her fiance over the strenuous entertainments of her friends, cuts thr knot 

when an impossible country cousin turns up with a demand to serve as 

bridesmaid, and gets married on the quiet. Very bright and live\j and 

Strongly recommended. Price, 16 cents 



HONEYMOON FLATS 

A Comedy in Two Acts 

By Hallie Hale Hassey and Gladys Ruth Bridgham 

Six males, eight females. Scenery, a single interior; costumes, 

modern. Plays an hour and a quarter. Babies have come to all the 

tenants of ** Honeymoon Flats," where no babies are allowed, when all 

of a sudden the landlord threatens a visit. Mrs. Murphy, the janitor's 

wife, agrees to take care of the little offenders until he has gone, but a 

reporter gets wind of Mrs. Murphy's " quadruplets " and prints a story 

about them, and the beans are spilled. Fast and furious fun that can be 

strongly recommended. A screaming farce. 

Price t 25 cents 

CHARACTERS 
Roscoe Montford, owner of Honeymoon Flats. 
Mike Murphy, the janitor. 
Harry Brown, a tenant. 
John Gleason, an insurance agent. 
Tom Carson, reporter on "Boston American** 
McCarthy, police officer. 
Mrs. Montford, the landlord's wife, 
Mrs. Murphy, the janitor s wife. 
Rosie Murphy, their little girl, 
Mrs. Brown ] 
Mrs. Gray . . 

Mrs. Jones \ ienants - 
Mrs. Smith J 
Helen Dearborne, Mrs. Gray's sister. 

LITTLE MISS AMERICA 

And The Happy Children 

A Patriotic Play in One Act 

By Mary Moncure Parker 

7'wenty four children, boys and girls, ad libitum. Costumes or no 

costumes, as convenient or desired ; scene, a platform only or a regular 

schoolroom setting, as preferred. Plays forty minutes. A jingle history 

of the United States attractively arranged in play form. A sugar-coated 

presentation of American history sure to interest both its juvenile players 

and its audience. Presents a complete summary of the history of the 

United States in ingenious dramatization. Strongly recommended. 

Price t 23 cents 

WOMEN IN WAR 

A Patriotic Entertainment in One Act 
By Esther Godshaw 
Eleven females. Costumes historical ; scene, the usual arrangement 
for tableaux. Plays twenty minutes. Tableaux representing the various 
women of history who have been prominent in the wars of the world, ac- 
companied by a descriptive reading developing every possible patriotic 
aspect of this fruitful theme. An extremely pretty and timely entertain- 
ment, suitable for almost any occasion. Well recommended. 
Price t fj cents 



THE ELOPEMENT OF ELLEN 

A Farce Comedy in Three Acts by Marie J. Warren. Four males, 
three females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, one interior and one exte- 
rior. Plays an hour and a half. A bright and ingenious little play, ad 
mirably suited for amateur acting. Written for and originally produced 
by Wellesley College girls. Strongly recommended. 
Price, 25 cents 

A VIRGINIA HEROINE 

A Comedy in Three Acts by Susie G. McGlone. Eleven female char 
acters. Scenery, easy ; costumes, modern. Plays one hour and forty-five 
minutes. Irish and Negro comedy parts, and two character parts; most 
of the characters young. A very easy and interesting play for girls, wtl). 
suited for school performance. Romantic interest with lots of comedy. 
Price, 23 cents 

OUR CHURCH FAIR 

A Farcical Entertainment in Two Acts by Jessie A. Kelley. Twelve 
females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, unimportant. Plays an hour and 
a quarter. A humorous picture of the planning of the annual church fair 
Dy the ladies of the sewing circle. Full of local hits and general human 
nature, and a sure laugh-producer in any community. Can be reconv 
mended. Price, 23 cents 

ALL CHARLEY'S FAULT 

A Farce in Two Acts by Anthony E. Wills. Six males, three females. 
Scenery, an easy interior ; costumes, modern. Plays two hours. A very 
lively and laughable piece, full of action and admirably adapted for ama- 
teur performance. Dutch and Negro comedy characters. Plays very 
rapidly with lots of incident and not a dull moment. Strongly recom 
mended. Price, ij cents 

HOW THE STORY GREW 

An Entertainment for Women's Clubs in One Act by O. W. Gleason. 
Eight female characters. Costumes, modern ; scenery, unimportant; ma} 
be given on a platform without any. Plays forty-five minutes. A very 
easy and amusing little piece, full of human nature and hitting off a well- 
known peculiarity of almost any community. Written for middle-aged 
women, and a sure hit with the audience. Price, ij cents 

THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 

A Comedy Drama in Four Acts by Arthur Lewis Tubbs. Six males, five 
females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, two interiors. Plays two hours 
Easy to stage and full of interest. The female parts are the stronger, being 
exceptionally good. Negro and " hayseed " comedy parts. A very strong 
dramatic piece. Can be recommended. Price t 25 cents 



A COUPLE OF MILLION 

An American Comedy in Four Acts 
By Walter Ben Hare 

Author of " Professor Pcpp," " Much Ado About Betty,** 
" The Hoodoo," " The Dutch Detective," etc, 

Six males, five females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, two interior* 
and an exterior. Plays a full evening. Royalty, ten dollars ($10.00) for 
each performance. A more ambitious play by this popular author in the 
same successful vein as his previous offerings. Bemis Bennington is left 
two million dollars by his uncle on condition that he shall live for one 
year in a town of less than five thousand inhabitants and during that 
period marry and earn without other assistance than his own industry and 
ability the sum of five thousand dollars. Failing to accomplish this the 
money goes to one Professor Noah Jabb. This is done despite the energetic 
opposition of Jabb, who puts up a very interesting fight. A capital play 
that can be strongly recommended. Plenty of good comedy and a great 
variety of good parts, full of opportunity. 

Price, 23 cents 

CHARACTERS 

Bemis Bennington. Fay Fairbanks. 

Hon. Jeremy Wise. Mrs. Clarice Codrtenay, 

James Patrick Burns, "Stubby." Genevieve McGully. 

'Professor Noah Jabb. Sammie Bell Porter, 

Beverly Loman. Pink. 

Squire Piper. 

Several Hill- Billies, 

SYNOPSIS 

Act I. — The law office of Hon. Jeremy Wise, New York City. 
A morning in July. 

Act II. — The exterior of the court-house, Opaloopa, Alabama. 
An afternoon in October. 

Act III. — Same as Act II. The next afternoon. 

Act IV. — Mrs. Courtenay's sitting-room, Opaloopa, Alabama^ 
A night in April. 



ISOSCELES 

A Play in One Act 
By Walter Ben Hare 
Two male, one female characters. Costumes, modern ; scene, an vat 
terior. Plays twenty minutes. Royalty $2.50 for each performance. An 
admirable little travesty of the conventional emotional recipe calling for 
husband, wife and lover. Played in the proper spirit of burlesque it is 
howlingly furmv. Strongly recommended for the semi-professional uses 
of schools of acting. A capital bit for a benefit or exhibition programme, 
Bering a decided novelty. 

Price % 23 tents 



ALLISON MAKES HAY 

A Comedy in Three Acts 
By Theresa Helburn 
Seven men, seven women. Scenery, three interiors ; costumes, modern. 
Plays a full evening. Royalty, #15.00 a performance. Originally pro- 
duced at The Belmont Theatre, New York, under the title, " Crops and 
croppers." Allison, patriotically retiring to the country as a war economy, 
cultivates the soil and raises, among other things, a husband. A bright 
and graceful little comedy wonderfully full of charm both in the character 
of Allison and in the treatment of her little love affair, which is the theme 
of the piece. The twin of " Cousin Kate " in its simple plan and enormous 
interest and appeal. Strongly recommended to all amateur organizations 
for its grace, its perfect taste, its ease of productions and its effectiveness. 
Price, 55 cents 

CHARACTERS 

(In the order of their appearance) 
Margot Marbrook, 19, her sister. 
Janey Wimpole, 19, her sister s friend. 
Annie, her maid. 

Peter Weston, 53, almost her guardian. 
Allison Marbrook, 23, herself. 
Roy Parcher, 24, her soldier. 
Stetson, her first 7-ecruit. 
Jean, 27, her hired man. 
Mrs. Bradley, 35, her last resort. 
Dr. Truesdale, 34, her unsuspected ally, 
Stephen Marbrook, 29, her brother. 
Mrs. Spencer, 51, \ , . , , 
Mrs. Pray, 32. \ ^ neighbors. 
Pete Cobb, her victim. 

SYNOPSIS 

Act I. — Her house in New York. 

Act II. — Her farm. 

Act III. — Her tenant house. 

THE COPPER POT 

A Play in Two Scenes 
By Frances Healey 
Eight men, five women. Scene, an Oriental street ; costumes, eastern. 
Plays half an hour. Royalty, #5.00 a performance. Abdallah, the 
Generous, borrows of Rasid, the Avaricious, his copper pot for the enter- 
tainment of his guests and by a piece of Oriental ingenuity becomes its 
possessor. A most laughable and ingenious picture of eastern life, cleverly 
written and lending itself to production either under conditions of great 
characteristic elaboration or of suggestive simplicity. To be classed with 
" The Man Who Married a Dumb Wife." Strongly recommended to 
Little Theatres in particular and to amateurs in general. 
Price^ 2J cents 



Members of 
The Old Maids 

Union , 
W. W. A. M. t 
No. 23. 



TWELVE OLD MAIDS 

An Entertainment in One Act 
By Walter Ben Hare 
Fifteen ladies and one little boy. Costumes, eccentric ; scenery, not 
necessary; a platform with screens will do. Plays about an hour. A 
novel bit of mere fun for older women, but possible for any age, amiably 
and tactfully playing variations on an old subject of undying popularity. 
The Mystic Orann, the invention of Mme. Zikeller, the fortune-teller, 
offers vast possibilities of fun in the right hands, and Madame's wonderful 
beauty lotion, " Everbloom," produces side-splitting results. Recom- 
mended as a sure hit. Price, 25 cents 

CHARACTERS 
Mrs. Beamer, a schemer. Takes summer boarders. 
Liza Pearl, her hired girl. Not so slow. 
Madam Zikeller, a fortune-teller. After the coin. 
Miss Lizzie Lidy, awfully tidy. 
Selina Zook, an A 1 cook. 
Matilda Finn, who s rather thin. 
Jemima Routt, a little stout. 
Ethel McWade, a poetical maid. 
Mary Ann Fites, who wants her rights. 
Manda M enter, from Punkin Center. 
Miss Kate O'Foss, who loves to boss. 
Lovetta McCann, who wants a man. 
Cerinthy Fling, does nothing but sing. 
Lucindy Toots, who elocutes. 
Eliza Neff, just slightly deaf 
The Mystic Orann, a wooden man. Who comes to life. 

WHY, JESSICA ! 

A Comedy in One Act 
By Annie R. Knowlton 
One male, nine females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, an interior. 
Plays forty minutes. Mr. Barker plots to cure his wife and her friends of 
their fondness for " Bridge " and enlists the services of Jessica, his niece, 
in this cause. Jessica contrives some startling disappearances of jewelry 
and other stakes of the game, and casts dark suspicion in all directions, 
finally bringing her terrified victims into the shadow of the Police Court. 
Funny, thrilling and salutary ; a novelty in this sort of play. Recom- 
mended for women's clubs. Price, 2j cents 

A LADY TO CALL 

A Comedy in One Act 

By Carl W. Pierce 

Three females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, an interior. Plays 

twenty minutes. Ann Bray and her sister Eliza are very anxious to get 

in with Mrs. Pratt, a city " society " woman who has just taken a fine 

house near the village, and when an automobile that they suppose to be 

hers breaks down at their door, they outdo themselves in entertaining her 

only to find that their temporary guest is Madame Zoretta, the Snake 

Charmer, from the circus in the next town. Strongly recommended. 

J Vice, 1 j cents 



ABOARD A SLOW TRAIN IN M1ZZOURY 
A Farcical Entertainment in Three Acts 
By Walter Ben Hare 
Eight males, fourteen females and supers. Scene, the interior of a 
passenger car; costumes, modern and eccentric. Plays a full evening. 
No royalty. Throughout this riot of fun the story of pretty Pauline 
Hetty's elopement with the villain of the piece constantly strives to emerge, 
but it is always snowed under by some iunny incident or sidesplitting 
•' wheeze " ; and after all nobody cares much, for when you ai-e laugh- 
ing all the time it does not much matter what happens. The train gets 
from Eczema to the town you are playing in somehow after two hours and a 
hah of solid fun, and that is all you care about. A big hit ; all the parts 
good ; strongly recommended for laughing purposes only. 
Price ; 27 cents 

WHO IS WHO 
Clarence Angelcake, the "cullud" porter. 
Handsome Harry Squnk, the conductor, a hero from the feet up. 
Sir Gilbert Darkwood, a human wolf with a black mustache. 
Moe Slibitsky, who sells you almost for nothing. 
Lengthy Tim Tuckins, a country sport, by heck I 
Little Mr. Doohunker, the constabule of Slab side Comers. 
Napoleon Doohunker, aged 13 months. 
Romeo Black, a city blossom. 
College Boys. 

Pretty Pauline Petty, the persecuted heroine. 
Miss Tessie Etta Codfish, looking for a man. 
Valeska Vamp, a mysterious mystery. 
Sis Hopkins, keep your eye 071 Sis. 
Aunt Venus Hopkins, with the internal dyspepsy. 
Big Mis' Doohunker, /art as cute as possible. 
Miss Molecule, a lady teacher. 
Mrs. Talcum, a singer in the choir. 
Cecelia Talcum, mamma s precious. 
Marjorxe Mayflower, from New England. 
Dixie Cotton, from the Sunny South. 
Betty Blizzard, from up Dakota way. 
Goldie Gates, a California blosso?n. 
Nancy Brown, from New York town. 

Grips, Boxes, Boys, Gals, etc* 

THEODORE, JR. 

A Play in One Act 
By Sallie Shute 
Se en females and a child. Costumes, modern ; scene, an easy in- 
terior- Plays twenty-five minutes. To six lively young girls in the 
Adamless Eden of a country village comes the rumor of an expected 
young man — a millionaire at that. All sorts of plans are laid, great ex- 
pectations are formed, and jealousies engendered, with a most exciting 
but wholly unexpected result. A clever bit of fooling sure to please. 
Price, 27 cents 



THE HOUSE IN LAUREL LANE 

A Comedy in Two Acts 
By Gladys Ruth Bridgham 
Six female characters. Costumes, modern; scenery, two interiors. 
Plays an hour and a quarter. No royalty demanded. Anice and Wil- 
ifred two sophomores, are elected to membership in the " Red Hearts," 
the swell secret society of Lake View Seminary, and are put through a 
thrilling initiatory ceremony, which they do not recognize as such until it 
is all over, to test their pluck and desirability. One of the most ingen- 
iously interesting and exciting plays for all ladies that we have ever pub- 
lished and is strongly recommended. All the parts are good and effective. 
Price t 2j cents 

CHARACTERS 
Josephine Arnold "j 
Irene Humphries I 7 , 

Claudia Wainwright j J unwrs > 
Marguerite Hastings J 
Anice Wainwright } c , , 
Wilifred Blake } Sophomores. 

SYNOPSIS 
Act I. — Josephine and Irene's room — Lake View Seminary. 
An afternoon in May. 
Act II. — The house in Laurel Lane — evening of the same day. 

I GRANT YOU THREE WISHES 

A Fantasy in One Act 

By Gladys Ruth Bridgham 

Can be played by any number of girls from four to fourteen ; many of 

the parts are small and can easily be doubled. Four scenes are called for 

but by the use of screens the play may be carried through with a single 

setting. Plays forty minutes. Elaine, just out of college and facing the 

world, longs for the traditional three wishes to give her a start, but her 

grandmother tells her that she in her time had this choice of three careers, 

and the play shows in a series of scenes how they befell. A fascinating 

idea cleverly and vividly developed in action. Recommended for schools. 

Price, 27 cents 

MISS TODD'S VAMPIRE 

A Comedy in One Act 
By Sallie Shute 

One male, four female characters. Costumes, modern ; scenery, an 
easy interior. Plays thirty minutes. Sue Makely comes precious near to 
losing one of the best young men that ever was in the person of Dan 
Morehouse, but Miss Todd finds a way to circumvent the " vampire " and 
block her little game. A very pretty, " human " little play that can be 
strongly recommended. 

Price, 27 cents 



THE SUBMARINE SHELL 

A War Play in Four Acts 

By Mansfield Scott 

Seven males, four females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, two interiors. 

Plays two hours. Royalty for amateur performance #10.00 for one, 

$15.00 for two performances. Inspector Malcome Steele, of the U. S. 

Secret Service, devotes himself in this thrilling play to unravelling thd 

German plots that surround Prof. Middlebrook's submarine shell that is to 

bring the downfall of the Hun. The battle between his wits and those 

of " Tom Cloff," the German secret agent, is of absorbing interest. An 

easy and effective thriller that can be recommended for school performance. 

Price, 25 cents 

CHARACTERS 

Hans Kraft, alias James Detective Albert Bradbury. 

Mc Grady. Inspector Malcome Steele. 

Otto Herman, alias William. " Tom Cloff." 

Mr. Warren Middlebrook. Mrs. Middlebrook. 

Monsieur Charles LeClair. Eleanor Middlebrook. 

Professor Henry Wester- Margaret Linden. 

berg. Delia. 

SYNOPSIS 
Act I. The living-room. August 1 1 , after dinner. 
Act II. Same as Act I. August 12, 1 : 30 p. m. 
Act III. The private laboratory. That evening, 7 :3a 
Act IV. Same as Act III. Later, 10 p. m. 

THE AMERICAN IDEA 

A Sketch in One Act 
By Lily Carthew 
Three males, two females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, an interior. 
Plays twenty minutes. Royalty for amateur performance $5.00. Mignon 
Goldman, following the American Idea, throws off the parental yoke 
and marries the man of her choice and not the choice of her parents. She 
brings home for the parental blessing John Kelly. Abe, her father, is 
disconsolate at this prospect until he sees John and recognizes in him Yan 
Kele Operchinsky, rechristened in accordance with "The American 
Idea." Originally produced at The Peabody Playhouse, Boston. Strongly 
recommended. Price, 25 cents. 

THE CROWNING OF COLUMBIA 

A Patriotic Fantasy in One Act 
By Kathrine F. Carlyon 
Twenty-five boys and twenty-four girls. Costumes, modern and 
picturesque. Nothing required in the way of scenery but a platform. 
Plays half an hour or less. Columbia is approached by the Foresters, the 
Farmers, the Miners, the Pleasure Seekers, the Ammunition Workers and 
even the Red Cross Workers, all asking her to be their Queen, but it is 
only when the Soldiers and the Red Cross Nurses come, asking nothing 
and giving all, that she yields. Easy, pretty, timely, and strongly recon> 
mended. Introduces music. Price, #3 cent* 



THE HURDY-HURDY GIRL 

A Comedy in Three Acts 

By Gladys Ruth Bridgham 
Nine males, nine females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, one interior 
and one exterior. Plays two hours. A light, breezy piece of the musical 
comedy kind, introducing music and dancing or not, as may be desired. 
Carlotta Vernon is persuaded to disguise herself at a garden party as a 
" Hurdy-Gurdy Girl " and gets mixed up with the daughter of a hurdy- 
gurdy man, Antonio, with whom the son of the host has become involved 
in college. The pursuit of damaging letters resulting from this cor- 
respondence and Antonio's private speculations with the host's personal 
property provide an amusing tangle. A bright, sparkling, pretty and 
picturesque play, giving uniformly good parts to an equal number of boys 
and girls of the high-school and college age. Can be recommended. 
Price y 25 cents 

CHARACTERS 

{As presented by the Senior Class of the Belfast, Maine t 
High School, in February, igi8. ) 
Simon Luggate. 
Theodore Luggate, his son. 
Marion Luggate, his daughter. 
Clarissa Luggate, his sister. 
Carlotta Vernon, his niece. 
Susie, his maid. 

Antonio Columbus, the Hurdy-Gurdy Man* 
Jim Stearnes 



Algernon Clancy 
Jack Grover 
Billy Mason 
Tom Murry 
Aristotle Lutzon 
Mary Dayton 
Helen Dayton 
Dolly Stearnes 
Josie Hopkins 
Maisie Deane 



Theodore s college 
chums 



The Bachelor 
Girls 



FINDING THE MAYFLOWERS 

A Puritan Play for Children in One Act 
By Blanche Proctor Fisher 
One male, eight females. Costumes of the period ; seen try, an in- 
terior. Plays twenty-five minutes. Dame Hopkins promises a sixpence 
to the girl who shall first hand her a bunch of mayflovvers, tl a existence 
of which in the new land to which the pilgrims have con, » is merely 
guessed. All the sisters save Faith Allerton disobey their mo-.her and go 
in search of the new flower, but to her Wolomona, an Indian girl, brings 
the coveted posies and she wins the prize. A pretty play teaching a 
valuable lesson in a pretty way. Strongly recommended. 
Price, /j cents 



&**- 



lA4 



Plays and Novelties That Have Been " Winners " 



The Americana 

Anita's Trial 

Art Clubs are Trumps 

Behind the Scenes 

The Camp Fire Girls 

A Case for Sherlock Holmes 

The Farmerette 

Getting the Range 

Her First Assignment 

Hltty's Service Flag 

Joint Owners in Spain 

A King's Daughter 

The Knitting Club Meet? 

A Lady to Call 

Leave it to Polly 

The Minute Man 

Miss Fearless & Co. 

A Modern Cinderella 

Moth- Balls 

Rebecca's Triumph 

The Thirteenth Star 

Twelve Old Maids 

An Awkward Squad 

The Blow Up of Algernon Blow 

The Boy Scouts 

A Close Shave 

The First National Boot 

A Half » Back's Interference 

His Father's Son 

The Man With the Nose 

On the Quiet 

The People's Money 

A Regular Rah ! Rah ! Boy 

A Regular Scream 

Schmerecase in School 

The Scoutmaster 

The Tramps' Convention 

The Turn in the Road 

Wanted— A Pitcher 

What They Did for Jenkins 

Aunt Jerusha's Quilting Party 

The District School at Blueberry 

Corners 
The Emigrants' Party 
Miss Prim's Kindergarten 
A Pageant of History 
The Revel of the Year 
Scenes in the Union Depot 
Taking the Census in Bingville 
The Village Post-Office 
Women in War 



Females Time 

II 1% hrs. 



8 

8 

20 

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12 
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>5 
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I 

10 
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16 

9 
15 



17 



% 



*X 






» 






1% 

X 

2 



Any number 2 



1# 

2 



14 



8 
20 



Price 

25c 
25C 
25C 
25C 
25 c 
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I5C 

25C 
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25 c 
25C 
I5C 
25C 
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l S* 
! 5c 
25c 

'?5c 

25c 

! 5 C 
25c 
25c 
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25c 

J 5 C 
25c 
25 c 
J 5 C 
15c 
25c 
25 c 

25c 

25c 
25 c 
25c 

15c 

25c 
25c 

25c 
15c 



Royalty 

Free 



#5.00 
Free 



BAKER, '.5 Hamilton Place, Boston, 



Mass* 



*" 



A A A A A A A A A A A A ■» ;", 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




The Air Spy 

Bachelor Hall 

The College Chap 

The Colonel's Maid 

Daddy 

The Deacon's Second Wife 

The District Attorney 

The Dutch Detective 

An Easy Mark 

The Elopement of Ellen 

Engaged by Wednesday 

The Farmerette 

For One Night Only 

Hamilton 

Higbee of Harvard 

Hitty's Service Flag 

The Hoodoo 

The Hurdy Gurdy Girl 

Katy Did 

Let's Get Married 

London Assurance 

Lost a Chaperon 

The Man from Brandon 

The Man Who Went 

The Man Without a Country 

Master Pierre Patella 

Me and Otis 

The Minute Man 

Mose 

Mr. Bob 

Mrs. Briggs of the Poultry Yard 

Nathan Hale 

Nephew or Uncle 

Professor Pepp 

A Regiment of Two 

The Revenge of Sharl-Hot-So 

The Rivals 

The Romancers 

The Rose and the Ring 

Sally Lunn 

The School for Scandal 

She Stoops to Conquer 

Step Lively 

The Submarine Shell 

The Thirteenth Star 

The Time of His Life 

Tommy's Wife 

The Twig of Thorn 



3 
4 
*5 
8 
8 
6 
3 
9 

il 

3 
12 

«5 

4 
7 



9 
8 

5 
3 
9 
4 
3 
5 
1 

4 
13 
10 

4 
7 
4 
3 
8 

4 
4 
5 
1 

5 
4 
4 
4 
10 

4 
9 
3 

5 
7 



i# 



3 
a* 

2 
2 

2 
2 

2 # 
2 






25c 
25c 
25c 
25c 
25c 
25c 
25c 
15c 
25c 
25c 
25c 

50c 

15c 

25c 
25c 

25c 
25c 
50c 

*5c 

25c 

'Sc 
25c 
25c 
50c 
iSc 
25c 
15c 
J5c 
25c 
50c 
25 c 

25c 

25c 
J 5c 
'5c 
25c 
25c 
25c 
'5C 

15c 

25c 
25c 
25 c 
25c 
25c 
60c 



Special 
Free 



Special 

Free 



#10.00 

Free 



Special 
Free 



M&m* 



For " special " royalties, see catalogue descriptions for 
detailed information. 

BAKER, 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, .Mass. 



f^fJI 



